


I Don't Want to Miss a Thing

by BowleggedNerd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Daddy Issues, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic John Winchester, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Musician Castiel, Musician Dean, Oral Sex, Suicide Attempt, Top Dean, Virgin Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BowleggedNerd/pseuds/BowleggedNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak was the best trumpet player in Truman High School's marching band, but now as a freshman at Wichita University, he has to start from the bottom.  Castiel's biggest priority is his music, and with band camp in full-swing, he must try his hardest to prove himself to his superiors.  Climbing the ranks will be no big deal for him, but things begin to change once he gets involved with the green-eyed drum captain, Dean Winchester.  All seems well until Dean's dark past and other external forces attempt to permanently separate them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Play Me Somethin', Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! It's @bowleggednerd (previously @_dwinchest) from Twitter. This is my first time writing fanfiction, so bear with me. I plan for this fic to be pretty lengthy, so yet again, bear with me. Brace yourselves for angst and smut. All comments are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

_Beep! Beep! Be—_

The alarm clock screamed, interrupting Castiel’s deep sleep. He must’ve thought of over ten reasons why not to get up this morning, but he knew he had to. It was the first day of band camp after all. He rolled over and slapped the alarm clock silent.

Perhaps he would’ve been more enthusiastic if he was returning to his alma mater, seeing all the familiar faces he grew up with since middle school. Don’t get him wrong, he loved playing the trumpet and he loved marching band, but he didn’t love being a freshman. Those days were rough, especially since his two older brothers, Gabriel and Michael, were seniors who constantly felt the need to pick on him every chance they got. Things got better after they graduated and Castiel began to establish himself as one of the best musicians Truman High had to offer. He climbed up the ranks quickly and became the leader of the trumpet section as a sophomore, which was practically unheard of before then.

Now, Castiel was off to Wichita University where he would be a freshman once more, meaning he would have to yet again prove himself as a musician to gain any sort of respect. Although he knew he could do it, it didn’t mean that it still wasn’t annoying.  Plus, making friends was never really a strong suit of his. The only friends Castiel had were in band, but now that they’ve all dispersed and deposited into very different lives, he can’t help but feel alone.

The idea of having to make new friends was one of the many reasons on the list of why he shouldn’t get up. Perhaps he should just focus on his music and his schoolwork, and he had always been such an incredible student. If college was made for anybody, it was Castiel, at least the academic side of it anyway.

_I can do this, I know it_ , Castiel thought to himself as he began to stretch his stiff body before climbing out of bed. He had almost forgotten that he wasn’t at home as he heard someone yelling from the hall.

“Rise and shine, freshies! We got a looong day of practice ahead of us, so let’s get to it!” An assertive male voice bellowed.

Castiel grunted. There was no way he was getting out now. Of course, he should’ve known that yesterday when he moved into his dorm. All band members had to move onto campus for band camp a month before school began. Gabriel and Michael got Castiel settled yesterday afternoon if you would call driving him to campus, throwing his stuff out on the curb and saying “good luck, little bro!” as getting him settled.

Castiel showered and dressed quickly. He was wearing his favorite blue Miles Davis t-shirt with a pair of light-washed Levi’s that had holes in the knees that would make it easier for him to march. With his dark hair still damp, Castiel looked in the mirror with a sigh, grabbing his trumpet and heading out the door.

The music building was a fairly simple route from his dorm. Castiel made sure to make a mental map of the area because, as a music major and band member, he would be making this walk quite often. Walking into the band room, Castiel was a little overwhelmed by how many people were jammed inside, scattered around clustered chairs, stands, and instrument cases. Everyone was standing in their own small, huddled groups. Castiel was amazed by how much sound could be made in just one room. There were laughs, squeals, and scales from every which direction. The noise didn’t necessarily bother him, but the anxiety of having to make new friends made itself known in Castiel’s throat, but he swallowed it down and calmed himself by trying to find what looked like the trumpet section.

To his relief, the chairs were labeled. Castiel found his name, sat down, and took out his beloved Jupiter Tribune. Instead of getting a car on his sixteenth birthday, his mother got him that trumpet, and he honestly couldn’t complain. He undid the valves and retrieved the oil from his pocket to lubricate them.

Just as he was about to reinsert the third and final valve, he heard everyone quiet down as the drum line roared to life behind him with a hearty cadence. Castiel turned toward the sound, standing up to see through the sea of people.

Ten pairs of white drumsticks fluttered in perfect synchronization, hitting the top of the shiny red snares while the bass drum echoed through Castiel’s chest. He loved that feeling; it somewhat reminded him of Truman’s drum line, but of course he knew all of those people. Castiel’s eyes scanned the straight faces of all of the drummers starting from the end of the row. They were all attractive, he thought. Finally, his eyes caught a glimpse of the last drummer. His lips parted slightly as he drew in a sharp breath.

Castiel had never seen a more beautiful human being. The boy was tall, lean, and cut. His pecs bounced slightly underneath his gray v-neck that hung perfectly off his muscular frame. His jaw was clenched and his plush pink lips were welded together in a perfect straight line. His emerald green eyes were focusing on something far, far away, but Castiel could see their sparkle despite the fact he was a good twenty feet from him.

“That’s Dean Winchester,” a female voice chimed in Castiel’s ear.

Castiel hadn’t known how long he had been staring. Not long enough, he thought. He turned to meet the dark, intense eyes of a petite girl with short blonde hair that framed her delicate face. She held a clarinet in her left hand as she wound her other arm around Castiel’s waist, taking him by surprise.

“He’s drum captain, and incredibly dreamy, isn’t he?”

Castiel blushed. Did she notice the way he was looking at the older boy?

“Wow, you have pretty eyes.”

“Th-Thank you,” Castiel said and cleared his throat.

“I’m Meg,” the girl said as she eyed him up and down. “What’s your name, hot stuff?”

“Castiel.”

“Castiel… that’s cute,” she smiled.

He redirected his attention to the drum line, and more specifically to the almond-colored hair of the boy apparently named Dean Winchester. The cadence came to a close, breaking Dean from his trance. He held his drumsticks firmly in his large hands as he looked down the line and his body relaxed from its rigid playing pose. The corners of his lips turned up into a smile, revealing impossibly straight, white teeth.

Suddenly, the older boy’s eyes snapped directly to Castiel’s face and pierced into his baby blues as if he had called to him. Embarrassed, Castiel dropped his eyes to the floor as blood rushed to his cheeks.  When he lifted his eyes back up, he noticed Dean was still staring at him, but a graceful redhead approached him. Dean wound his right arm around the girl’s waist as she lifted herself on her toes to press her lips to his, but he held Castiel’s gaze despite of it.

Castiel’s heart sunk into his stomach. There’s no way a guy like that could ever be gay. Disheartened, Castiel took his seat and quietly ran over a few scales before Mr. Crowley, the band’s director, approached his podium at the front of the room.

“Alright, quiet and sit your asses down,” Mr. Crowley yelled over the crowd in a thick British accent.

The room went silent without protest aside from the scuffle of everyone’s shoes as they took their seats. A boy who looked to be about Castiel’s age sat on his left side, trumpet in hand. Castiel would’ve thought he was cute, but now all boy’s attractiveness dulled since he saw the marvelousness that was Dean Winchester. He attempted to take a quick glance over his shoulder to the drum line. Even in the quickest glimpse, Castiel noticed Dean was still looking at him. Flustered, he turned back around.

“Hi, I’m Adam,” the boy sitting next to him whispered.

“Castiel,” he whispered back, placing his hand in Adam’s who gave it a firm shake.

“Now that we’re all settled here,” Mr. Crowley said, “I’d like to introduce you all to our section leaders. Stand up and announce yourselves.”

“Hi, I’m Anna,” chimed the pretty flutist Dean had kissed.

“Chuck,” said the trumpeter at the end of Castiel’s row.

“Masters,” Meg shouted from the clarinet section.

“Charlie!” a female voice yelped from the saxophones.

"Balthazar,” a British voice sounded from low brass.

The drum line began to hoot and holler from the back of the room. Everyone turned their heads around to get a better look. Dean lifted his hand to quiet them.

“Dean,” he said with a husky, matter-of-fact voice that seemed to rattle around in Castiel’s head.

Crowley rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, signaling everyone to face him. “Let’s warm-up, play through the fight song, and get out onto the field, shall we?”

They tuned and ran through a few scales. Section leaders passed down the fight song’s sheet music. Castiel frowned at the paper once he saw “Trumpet 3” printed in the upper left-hand corner. He knew being a freshman meant starting from the bottom, but not that far down. Unfurrowing his brow, he sighed.

Mr. Crowley raised his arms with his baton in his right hand, pinky extended. On his downbeat, the band roared to life and played WU’s beloved fight song. Castiel effortlessly maneuvered his way through the simple harmony. Halfway through, he began to tune every instrument out one by one until only percussion remained. The bass drum rattled through his chest, and he swore he could pick out Dean’s snare from all the others.

Too soon, the song drew to a close.

“Not bad,” Mr. Crowley said surprisingly, “not bad at all. Let’s get on the field.”

Since it was the first week of camp, no one brought their instruments out onto the practice field except drum line to help keep tempo. Although a lot of the members had marching experience from high school, some were new, so this week was all about the basics, which severely irritated Castiel. He could do slants, pinwheels, step-twos, and all kinds of other commands in his sleep.

Everyone was assigned a four man squad, placed on a yard line, and told to face the fifty where drum line stood. Castiel was on the forty-five, and it just so happens he was placed so Dean was directly in front of him. Only five yards separated him from the Adonis in aviators. Castiel was a phenomenal trumpeter and an even better marcher, so why was he so nervous? Oh, yeah, right, because Dean friggin Winchester just flashed his pearly whites at him. Thank God Castiel was also wearing sunglasses or else he would’ve been blinded by those things.

Mr. Crowley stood on the drum major platform at the end of the fifty with a blow horn.

“Listen up, you sweaty swines! Always step off with your left foot! There are eight equal steps between yard lines! Keep your squad lines as straight as possible! Try not to fuck it up too terribly! Dean, give us a beat!”

Castiel’s awestruck mind quickly snapped into focus as Dean hit his right stick on the rim of his snare four times.

. . .

After three long hours on the field, everyone lazily filed into the band room, eager to collect their things and return to their dorms; everyone except Castiel.

Castiel sat in his assigned seat, pulled out his favorite sheet music book, and set it onto the music stand in front of him. The crowd soon dissipated and even Mr. Crowley had gone, leaving Castiel alone with his trumpet and his thoughts. Once the serenity of solitude sank in, he began to play the silky first trumpet solo of _Bolero_. His fingers danced fluidly over the valves, sweeping over runs of slurred sixteenth notes. The melody flows like honey, thick and incredibly sweet, like Dean’s voice. Castiel expelled the thought and held out the last note, savoring its syrupy goodness until decrescendo-ing into nothingness.

A slow clap echoed from behind a bass drum, startling Castiel. He stood and whirled around to find Dean Winchester walking around the behemoth of an instrument and taking a few steps closer to him.

“That was pretty damn good for a freshie,” Dean laughed.

Castiel fidgeted, unable to find his words.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckled, “I won’t bite… much.”

Dean’s intense gaze pierced through Castiel’s eyes into his very soul. This has never happened before. Normally Castiel would be calm and collected, but something about the way Dean’s smile reached his eyes and the way that v-neck clung to the contours of his chest…

“So,” Dean interrupted Castiel’s wandering mind, “you got a name, handsome?”

“Uh, excuse me,” Castiel stammered, “What?”

“You. Got. A. Name. Handsome?” Dean exaggerated with that killer smile.

“C-Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

“Hm,” Dean brought his hand up to his chin, “Castiel. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You better.”

Dean walked over toward the aisle Castiel was sitting in and took the chair next to his. Castiel couldn’t believe this was happening. The hottest guy he’s ever seen, let alone imagined, just called him handsome and gave him a nickname. _Cas_ , he repeated in his head. He liked it. On top of all that, this beautiful creature was sitting in the chair right next to his, arms sprawled out across the tops of the seats on either side of him. Cas’s mouth watered at the sight. He couldn’t help himself.

“Play me somethin’, angel.”

“Um, o-okay.”

Cas cautiously took his seat, careful not to touch Dean. He knew if he did, he would faint right then and there. Cas avoided eye contact although he could feel those green eyes wrap around him like vines that he’s sure he would never want to break free from.

Dean’s hand that rested on the back of Cas’s chair now caressed his shoulder blade through the thin fabric of his blue Miles Davis t-shirt. He froze instantly despite the heat and electricity that radiated from Dean’s drumstick-calloused palm. Dean’s touch and his woody, evergreen scent intoxicated Cas. He had never been drunk, but he knew if he ever was, it would feel something like this.

“Come on,” Dean sarcastically pleaded, “for me?”

A genuine smile spread across Cas’s face that lifted his rouged cheeks to his eyes. He wordlessly brought his trumpet to his lips, adjusting his armature. He wanted to show off, so he played _25 or 6 to 4_ , a jazzy piece that tested his range and his knack for rhythm. Cas finished and dropped his trumpet from his now puffy lips and turned to face Dean who just sat there, mouth wide-open.

“Wow,” Dean breathed, “that was… that was amazing.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas smiled.

Cas noticed Dean staring intently at his swollen lips as he took his own bottom lip between his teeth. Entranced by the older boy’s lips, Cas had barely noticed Dean’s hand that remained on his back gently pushing him closer. Cas could feel his heart pounding as hard and loud as a bass drum as their faces became just inches apart.

Suddenly, a loud buzzing sound erupted from Dean’s pocket, startling them both. Dean let out a frustrated sigh as he pulled out his phone, looked at it, and answered.

“Hey, Sammy, I—” Dean furrowed his brow as he listened to the voice on the other line, and his voice became cold and deep. “I’ll be right there.”

Dean ended the call and looked up apologetically to Cas’s concerned face.

“I hate to cut this short, but I have to go.”

“No, it’s okay,” Cas looked down and tried not to sound too disappointed, “I understand.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Dean said as he lifted Cas’s face to his, “I’ll pick you up on Friday and we’ll go out and do something, sound good?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Me, too.”

Dean grabbed Cas’s music book from the stand, pulled out a pen from his back pocket, and quickly scribbled his number down. Dean clicked the pen closed and handed Cas the book, and they sat there for a good ten seconds just staring into each other’s eyes and grinning like a couple of idiots.

“See you then, Castiel.”

“See you then, Dean,” Cas blushed.

Suddenly, Cas’s face was embraced by Dean’s warm, calloused—yet incredibly soft—hands. Cas found himself holding his breath, unsure of what was happening. Dean’s irresistibly sweet breath cascaded over him, tickling his lips. He was so close, Cas could count every freckle that peppered his tanned skin, and those eyes. Dean’s eyes were like two perfectly cut emeralds with hundreds of facets flecked with gold, perfectly framed by insanely long eyelashes. God, Cas could stare at them all day, but Dean was inching his face closer and closer, closing his eyes as he did so. Dean slowly pressed a single chaste kiss to Cas’s quivering lips. Cas swore his heart had stopped until their lips parted. Finally, he could breathe.

“Text me,” Dean whispered against Cas’s lips before standing up and walking out of the band room.

Cas sat there for a few minutes in a complete daze. _Did that really just happen?_


	2. Hey, Hot Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all about Cas and Meg's friendship with a little surprise at the end (wink, wink). I hope y'all are enjoying so far!

Cas wandered around campus, apathetic and unsure as to where exactly he was going.  All he knew was that he needed some fresh air after what just happened.  Dean "Carved from Marble" Winchester just kissed him like it was nothing.  He almost thought it didn't really happen and that he had just imagined it, but looking down at his sheet music book, he could see Dean's phone number printed in blue ink in the upper right-hand corner.   _Text me_ , he whispered on his lips, and he could still feel the tickle of his breath.

It was getting late.  The sun was beginning to set as Cas stood looking out over a large green that was decorated with fully bloomed cherry blossom trees that almost glowed in the warm gold light of the Kansas summer dusk.  He had a lazy grip on his trumpet and his music as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the smell of fresh-cut grass to flood his senses; the earthy smell reminded him of Dean, but the more he thought about him, the more confused he became.

 _Didn't he kiss that girl, Anna?  Does that mean he's bi?  Is he dating her?_ The last question really worried Cas.  What if Dean really was dating Anna, and what if it was exclusive?  Where would that put him?  With every step he made toward his dorm, a new nagging question seemed to manifest.

Luckily, Cas lived on the first floor of his building, and his mother had specifically requested that he have a single room.  She always knew how much he valued his privacy.  Once inside, he placed his things down and took an exasperated sigh.  It had been a long day, and he knew exactly what he needed to decompress: a nice, hot shower.  He got his shower caddy, undressed, and wrapped a towel firmly around his waist.

 _Who's Sammy?  Another love interest?_ Cas thought as he walked down the hall to the empty bathroom.  All the band kids must have been out partying with the football team or something.  Whatever the reason, he was thankful to have the bathroom to himself.  He turned on the shower and stepped inside, letting the water wash away his stress and more specifically, his thoughts about Dean.

Back in his room, he changed into his Truman marching band t-shirt and threw on a pair of sweats.  Suddenly, there was a knock at his door.  Looking out of the peephole stood a pretty little blonde with short hair.  Although her face was somewhat distorted by the fish eye lens, he could still tell who it was.

"Hello, Meg," he said as he opened the door.

"Hey, hot stuff," Meg responded, eyeing Cas up and down, "Can I come in?"

He opened his door enough to let her through.

"Wow, single room, huh?  Pretty fancy."

"I like my privacy."

"I can see that," Meg flashed a wide smile at him.

Cas stared at her for a second, piecing things together.  How did she know who Dean was?

"Do you live here?" he furrowed his brow, "I thought only freshmen lived here."

"Yeah, I live here.  I'm a junior now, but it's just cheaper to live in a freshmen dorm," Megs eyes dropped to the floor.  She almost looked embarrassed.  "Especially since I'm paying for school on my own."

Cas and Meg got to know each other more that night.  They sat on Cas's bed and talked for hours.  Turns out Meg was from a small town in Massachusetts and her parents were never really supportive of her dreams.  More than anything, they wanted her to become a doctor, but she decided to follow her passion for music instead, which drove a wedge between her and her parents.  The day she graduated high school, she ran away and hitch-hiked all the way to Kansas just so she could go to WU.  She fell in love with the music program when she received a letter in the mail from the university and did some research of her own.  To pay for school, she worked at the Gas N Sip on the south side of campus.  She didn't get paid much, but every little bit helped.  She didn't care about all the debt she'd be stuck with after she graduated because to her, it was all worth it and then some.  Cas highly admired Meg's determination, for he knew if others were put into her shoes, most of them would've failed miserably and probably ended up in a ditch somewhere.

"So, yeah," she said as she stared at the geometric pattern of Cas's comforter. "That's my story."

"I don't even know what to say." His eyes also dropped to his comforter, scanning the geometric pattern as if it contained the answer.  "Thank you for telling me, Meg."

Cas's sincere, blue eyes met Meg's, and she gave him an appreciative smile.  It's only been one day here at WU and he has already been kissed by the hottest guy in the world  _and_ made a friend.  Maybe this college thing wasn't going to be so hard after all.

"Since we're BFFs now, I guess it's your turn to share," Meg laughed.

"Uh—I don’t know…”

"Oh, come on," she begged.

Cas started off by telling Meg about his family.  His father always did a lot of traveling for work, so it was mostly just him, his mom, and his brothers.  Don't get him wrong, he loved his dad, but he was really a mama's boy, which Michael and Gabriel always teased him for.

Michael and Gabriel both went to the University of Delaware.  As fraternal twins, they were practically inseparable and the football scouts at UD knew it.  Now that Michael and Gabriel were both seniors as well as damn good ball players, they were incredibly busy and barely had any time to come home.  Cas missed his brothers, but he knew they were happy, especially since the Baltimore Ravens showed a particular interest in them.  He decided to stay closer to home so Mom wouldn't feel completely alone, plus he knew he would get homesick if he decided to go to school anywhere else.

Although Cas felt like he was talking too much, Meg seemed to be interested in everything he had to say, so he kept going.  Knowing she would appreciate it, he talked about his music.  He had always had a love for music: listening to it, playing it, composing it, everything.  Unlike Meg's parents, his were incredibly supportive.

"So, why trumpet? I never would've pegged you as a brass player, let alone a cocky trumpeter," she chuckled.

"Well," he smiled, "I guess it's because I'm a relatively quiet person.  My trumpet really gives me a voice, I guess."

"Wow, that was deep.  You sure you shouldn't be an English major or a poet or something?"

Cas's stomach broke the silence with a loud growl.  They both looked down at it and laughed.

"I guess it's time for take-out."

Half an hour later, they were back on his bed eating Chinese food and sharing funny marching band stories.  Meg reached for her water on Cas's desk, but ended up knocking it over.

"Oh, God!" she screamed as she jumped up and attempted to mop it up with napkins.  "I'm  _so_ sorry.  Shit, I got some on your music."

She picked up Cas's sheet music book and squinted at the blue ink in the upper right-hand corner.  Luckily, the water she spilled didn't reach it.

"Uh—That's nothing," he said nervously as he reached for the book.

Meg kept the book out of Cas's reach, making a game of it.  Normally, this would irritate him, but he really enjoyed her company and could honestly care less about a little spilled water, even if it was on his favorite sheet music book signed by the one and only Dean Winchester.

"Oooh, you got someone's number and didn't tell me?!  Who is she?  Is she in band?"

"Yeah," he sat back down on his bed in defeat.

"Spill!"

No one knew about Cas being gay except his family.  Even his friends at Truman didn't know.  He had watched way too much T.V. to know that his high school experience would've been a complete hell if he came out.  Whenever any of his friends asked him about sex, he would just lie and say he had been with some girl from a rival high school.  Thankfully, they never questioned his credibility, but now with Meg staring right at Dean friggin Winchester's number, he decided to just come out with it.  After all, this was college and Meg seemed nice and trusting enough.  With his stomach tied in knots, he took the risk and finally spoke.

"Well, uh, actually," he stammered and quickly took a sip of his own water.  "That's, uh, Dean's number.  Dean Winchester."

Meg's mouth practically hit the floor, and Cas braced for impact.  She stood there clutching the book and eyeing the number for what felt like ages until she lifted her dark eyes to him.  He couldn't tell if she was mortified, surprised, or both until a wide smile spread across her face.

"Holy shit, Castiel!  What happened?!  Tell me  _all_ about it!"

"Wait a minute," he held up his hand, "You—you don't care that I'm... gay?"

"Honestly, I sort of guessed by the way you were looking at him today, but of course I don't care!  Like, love, and fuck anyone you want!"

Cas blinked in disbelief and let out a relieved sigh.  "Wow, I'm so glad to finally get that off of my chest.  Thank you, Meg."

"No problem, hot stuff, and don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Cross my heart and hope to die," she said as she drew a little 'x' over her chest with her index finger.  "Okay, start from the beginning.  Tell me everything that happened."

He told her  _everything_ , and he could've sworn her face was going to rip in half from smiling so big.  He couldn't help but blush when he explained the kiss.

"Eeeep!"  she squealed.  "I can't believe it!  And he gave you a nickname!   _Cas_ ," she sad in a manly voice, "that's so cute!  Honestly, I didn't know Dean was into guys, too."

Cas felt awkward for asking, but he had to know.

"Is he with that redheaded girl, Anna?"

"Ugh," she scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, he is.   _Anna Milton_ ," she practically spat her name, " _everyone_ hates her.  She thinks she's the best thing since sliced freakin' bread.  I honestly don't know why Dean is even with her, but I heard they rarely see each other, or rather he rarely sees her.  I don't know, I mean I've never seen him look smitten in love with her or anything.  Maybe she's just his beard!"

"His what?"

"His cover-up for being gay, you know?  By the way you described the moment you two had, it sounded completely different than how he acts with her.  Seriously, he barely even talks to her, as far as I know.  He flirted his ass off with you though, Cas," Meg said as she nudged his side and winked at him.

"Do you think I have a chance with him?"  He tried not to sound too desperate.

"A knockout like you?  Hell yeah!  Give him the ol' razzle dazzle.  He said to text him, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"'But' nothing!  You text that boy, I mean, only if and when you want to.  Don't let me pressure you into anything, but I'm just sayin'."

"Okay," he nodded, "I'll let you know if and when I do."

"Perfect!  My number is 443-555-0012, by the way.  Keep me updated, okay?  I'm going to go to bed, and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow," she said as she walked over and out the door.

"Bye.  Oh, and Meg?"

"Yeah?" She popped her head back in.

"Who's Sammy?"

"Sam is Dean's little brother.  He's still in high school, but that's about as much as I know."

"Alright, thanks again, Meg.  Goodnight," he smiled

"Sleep tight!"  She chimed as she let the door close behind her.

* * *

 After Meg left, Cas straightened up his room a bit and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  When he got back, he entered her and Dean's number into his phone and just stared at Dean's for a while, contemplating on if and when he should text him and what he would even say.   _Hi, I'm that freshman trumpet player you kissed, and I can't stop thinking about you (*smiley face emoji*)_.  He finally stripped down to his underwear, climbed into bed, and turned off his desk light.

By that point, it was nearly midnight, but he was wide awake.  Talking to Meg really gave him hope.  Not only was it comforting to be able to confide in someone, but if what she said about Dean and Anna was really true, then maybe he really did have a chance.   _God_ , he hoped so.  He couldn't get those green eyes and that killer smile out of his mind, and he especially couldn't not think about that kiss.

Cas closed his eyes and replayed the memory over and over in his mind, which made his cock twitch.  He moved his arm underneath the comforter and ran his hand down his chest to his growing erection, imagining that it was Dean's large, calloused palm and nimble fingers.  He took his bottom lip between his teeth once he wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft.   _Come on, for me?_ He imagined Dean's sultry voice and squeezed and tugged on his cock, letting out a soft moan as he did so.

Suddenly, he was leaking onto his underwear.  He had barely even touched himself and he was already leaking all because he was thinking about Dean freakin' Winchester and his stupid green eyes, those stupid, perfect teeth, and those beautiful pink lips...  _Fuck_.  He didn't realize it, but he was feverishly jerking off his cock and he didn't even care that it was dry.

"Oh, yes, mmm, Dean, Dean!"  He half-screamed as his legs quivered and sweat coated the nape of his neck and pillow.  The orgasm bubbled up inside him and erupted into his hand.

After allowing himself to recover, he grabbed some tissues from his desk to clean himself up.

 _Wow, that was... that was amazing_ , Dean's voice echoed in his head.  He smiled as he wiped himself clean and put on a new pair of underwear.

Cas laid back in bed and set his alarm clock.  He slowly drifted off to sleep, and for the first time in a long time, he was incredibly excited for something unrelated to music.  That something was Dean Winchester.


	3. The Roadhouse

Cas woke up before his alarm went off and dressed quickly, throwing on his senior all-state band t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans.  He normally didn’t dress in graphic tees, but he was at band camp, so fashion wasn’t exactly a top priority.  After the talk he and Meg had last night, he felt unusually confident.  Maybe he really does have a chance with Dean.

By the time he was all dressed and ready, the upperclassman started yelling from the hall to wake everyone up. He grabbed his trumpet and his music and walked out of his dorm to the music building.

Cas was never a morning person, but he enjoyed the walk to the music building. To get there, he had to walk past the open green he had admired the night before and a giant statue of a treble clef. It still smelled like freshly cut grass, but with a hint of early morning dew that also made it glisten in light of the rising sun. The earthy smell yet again reminded him of Dean, as did the sparkling green grass, which was reminiscent of the twinkle in Dean’s eyes just before they kissed.

Entering the practice room, Cas’s eyes went straight to the percussion section where only one drummer sat with large studio headphones on, entranced by whatever he was listening to. Only a few people were at their seats, including Anna. He couldn’t help but glare at the back of her head as she rocked slightly while playing a tune on her flute he didn’t recognize.

Cas took his seat, keeping his eyes on Anna. Jealousy began to boil up inside him, but then he remembered the talk he and Meg had last night. _I don't know, I mean I've never seen him look smitten in love with her or anything. Maybe she's just his beard!_ her voice echoed in his head, making him smile. He had a chance, maybe even a better one than Anna. He looked down and chuckled to himself, feeling another surge of confidence and a boost of his self-esteem.

People filed into the room one-by-one, and Cas kept looking to see if any of them were Dean. He felt kind of pathetic for doing it, but he couldn’t help it. The room began to crescendo into the boisterous collection of laughs, squeals, and scales he had walked into yesterday. Looking down as he polished his trumpet, he noticed a pair of little Pumas standing by his feet.

“G-morning, hot stuff,” Meg said as she lightly punched his shoulder.

Cas looked up and smiled at her. “Hello, Meg.”

“Where’s—” she looked around as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear and dropped her voice into a whisper, “—you know who?”

Cas’s smile fell from his face and he looked back down at his trumpet. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” she lifted his face back up to hers, “he does this all the time.”

“What, not show up?

“Yeah. Mr. Crowley never says anything about it, so D- I mean, _he_ must have a legit excuse.”

“I guess,” he said somberly.

“Don’t let it get you down. There’s still plenty more weeks of camp.”

Meg smiled and winked at Cas before walking over to her section. He glanced over at the percussion section, eyeing Dean’s unmanned drum. _Where is he? Is he okay?_ Cas thought to himself, trying not to become too worried. After all, Meg said he was absent a lot, so he must be okay… hopefully.

 _Tap, tap, tap!_ Mr. Cowley’s baton hit his stand, quieting the room.

“Okay, let’s get started.”

They warmed-up, tuned, and played through the fight song without incident. Out on the field, Cas snapped into marching band mode, hitting every mark flawlessly. He became incredibly frustrated whenever Mr. Crowley would yell some kind of profanity through his megaphone because that meant someone royally messed up and they would have to start all over again. Although Cas found himself looking at Dean’s empty spot on the fifty yard-line, he didn’t allow it to break his focus. No matter what football field he stepped on, he felt in his element, and despite Dean’s absence, he felt a twinge of excitement for the season to start and all the halftime shows that came along with it.

After practice, Cas packed up his things and walked with Meg back to his room. They talked for half an hour or so, mostly about marching, before she left for her shift at the Gas N Sip. Now alone with no distractions, his mind wandered its way back to Dean.

Cas sat up on his bed and grabbed his phone from his desk. He scrolled through his contacts until he landed upon Dean’s name. After contemplating with himself for a few minutes, he finally decided to text him.

 **Castiel Novak:** Hello, Dean.

He stared at the message for a long time, silently praying for a response. Five minutes passed, then ten, then thirty. Nervous and worried, he double-checked the number Dean had written down and the number he put into his phone. _They match, so why hasn’t he responded yet?_ Cas thought as he placed his phone down on his desk. Maybe if he didn’t look at his phone, Dean would respond.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Speak of the Devil. Cas quickly grabbed his phone and checked his messages.

 **Dean Winchester:** Hey there, angel. Miss me today? ;-)

Cas felt like a giddy school girl, blushing and smiling over a stupid little text message.

 **Castiel Novak:** Maybe a little.

 **Dean Winchester:** Only a little? Hm. Well, I guess you’ll have to miss me “maybe a little” more.

 **Castiel Novak:** Why? What do you mean?

 **Dean Winchester:** I thought you said you didn’t miss me ;-P

Flustered, Cas chewed on his bottom lip. He didn’t know what to say, but luckily his phone buzzed again.

 **Dean Winchester:** I gotta go, angel. I’ll see ya on Friday.

 **Castiel Novak:** Okay, Dean. Where do you want to meet?

 **Dean Winchester:** How bout the Roadhouse at 8?

The Roadhouse? Cas had never heard of it, but he didn’t want to sound like a clueless freshman. Meg could probably tell him where it is.

 **Castiel Novak:** See you then, Dean.

 **Dean Winchester:** See you then, Castiel ;-)

Wednesday and Thursday passed by quickly. Cas figured Dean wasn’t going to show for the rest of the week after what he had texted him, giving him time to really focus on band. On Thursday, Chuck—the trumpet section leader—had actually suggested that Cas be moved to second trumpet, and that if he keeps it up, he could even be bumped up to first.

Thankfully, they were moving on from the basics of marching to the halftime show’s choreography next week. Cas couldn’t wait to start learning the show, and he was even more excited for the real thing once the fall semester started. His enthusiasm boosted his school spirit and encouraged him to buy some Wichita Wolverines gear at the store on the west side of campus.

Meg was busy with work, so Cas kept himself occupied after practice by going on runs around campus. Running always helped him clear his mind when music wouldn’t, plus it kept him in good shape. Although he wasn’t as big as Michael or Gabriel, he still had a relatively muscular build. His brothers always asked him to try out for Truman’s football team, swearing up and down that he would go pro one day, but he obviously decided to pursue his passion for music instead.

On Thursday, Cas returned to his dorm, dropped off his trumpet, and changed into running shorts. He didn’t know the area well, but he would simply retrace his steps if he got lost. Since his dorm was in north campus, he decided to run clockwise. Not a lot of people were on campus because it was still technically summer, which made him incredibly thankful. The open sidewalks and lazy traffic made his run that much more peaceful.

East campus was mostly full of frat and sorority houses, which is coincidentally close to the football stadium. Cas could almost envision all of the lawns of the houses littered with red solo cups and a few piles of vomit. The party scene never interested him. Small gatherings with close friends were always more preferable, but maybe he’d have to give partying a shot. After all, he was a college student now.

Cas continued running to the south side of campus. He had never been down there, but he knew Meg worked at the Gas N Sip on the corner of Jefferson and Rosemary. It was quaint and seemingly absent of college life, except for the small businesses that were scattered around the area where students probably worked. The houses were better kept than that of those in east campus and some even had children playing on their front lawns.

Turning down Cyprus Street, Cas marveled at the cherry blossom trees that lined the road, reminding him of the open green in north campus. The houses were all at least seventy years old with Victorian architecture and grand porches. If he didn’t live in the dorms, he would definitely want to live there on Cyprus.

Distracted by the beauty of his surroundings, Cas ran into something. He didn’t even realize he ran off the sidewalk until his shin started throbbing from the impact of the bumper and his hands landed on the shiny, hot black surface of the car. Stepping back, he noticed that it was an Impala, and an old one at that, perhaps a ’67. He looked toward the house the car was parked in front of, letting his mouth fall open as he did so.

 _Wow_ was all Cas could think as he looked upon the grand Victorian home before him. Three stories of pristinely white siding and lots of windows, some of which were stained with abstract patterns of vibrant colors that almost resembled the artwork of Gustav Klimt. The front of the house was framed by a large porch with two lounge chairs that overlooked the lawn and a chandelier that hung directly over the door, which was painted scarlet with a single faceted window that made looking inside practically impossible.

Luckily, whoever lived in the house didn’t see Cas collide into their car. After admiring the house for perhaps longer than he should have, he started running toward west campus, but not before making a mental note to remember the address: 628 Cyprus Street.

Returning to his dorm, Cas took a long shower and changed into some fresh clothes. The run really helped calm his nerves. Apparently he and Dean Winchester had a date tomorrow night, and the only thing he knew was that Dean wanted to meet at the Roadhouse at eight. That reminded him, he should text Meg and ask where the place even is.

Grabbing his phone off the desk, he noticed he had a message from Dean.

 **Dean Winchester:** Tomorrow. Roadhouse. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late. ;-)

 **Castiel Novak:** I’ll be there.

Cas smiled at the confirmation that this was really happening. He was going on a date with Dean Winchester, the most gorgeous man in Kansas and maybe even the entire world. After texting the details to Meg and listening to her outpour of excitement for him, she gave him the address. He spent the rest of the night figuring out what he should wear, finally settling on a white v-neck, black skinny jeans, and his gray and black checkered Vans slides.

By that time, it was almost midnight. Cas hadn’t eaten since lunch, but he didn’t care. Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. One shot of Nyquil later, he was out cold until his alarm clock startled him awake. Thank God he remembered to set it.

Cas went through practice on auto-pilot. To his relief, Dean wasn’t there again, giving him more time to mentally prepare for their date. Retiring from the field, Cas quickly made his way to the band room so he could make it to his dorm and start getting ready. Halfway out the door, he hears someone call for him.

“Castiel!”

He whipped his head around and saw Meg bobbing and weaving her way through people to reach him. She must have ran all the way inside from the practice field.

“Hello, Meg,” he laughed at her as she tried to catch her breath.

“Hey, hot stuff,” she panted. “So, I have a brilliant idea.”

They started walking toward their dorms, passing by the expansive green Cas liked.

“Do you need a moment to catch your breath?” he suggested while trying to suppress another laugh.

“Shut up!” Meg yelped as she elbowed his side. “Okay, so here’s my idea. If you really want to find out if Dean likes you, how about I go with you to the Roadhouse and make him jealous?”

He shot her a skeptical look. “Make him jealous how?”

“I don’t know, maybe have my hand around your waist or something? Don’t worry, no kissing or anything. If he looks even the slightest bit jealous, that’ll just prove that he likes you and that you have a shot, Cas!”

He looked down at his shoelaces, pondering her suggestion.

“Oh, and it’s okay that I call you Cas, right?”

“What? Oh, yes, that’s fine.”

A few moments of silence passed between them before she piped up once more. “C’mon, Cas, I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t think it would work. Remember how you felt when you saw him and Anna together? Well, let’s see if we can make him feel the same way.”

“Well… okay, but no kissing.”

Meg sucked her lips into her mouth until they were no longer visible, making Cas bellow out a hearty laugh that almost made his stomach hurt. By that time, they were walking inside their building.

Practically skipping down the hall, Meg yelled, “I’ll swing by your room after I’m done getting ready!”

Cas decided to get a quick shower and shave, which Gabriel taught him how to do since their father was rarely home. Back in his room, he slapped on some aftershave and a few squirts of his favorite cologne with lavender undertones. Throwing on his white v-neck and black skinny jeans, he hears Meg tap one of the drumline’s cadences on his door.

“Caaas,” Meg said, “I’m coming in, so you better be decent.”

Opening the door, they both eyed each other up and down. Meg was wearing a skin-tight, little black dress that tastefully showed off her curvy figure. Smoky purple eye shadow perfectly complimented her big brown eyes, and a single diamond pendant necklace framed her chest. She was absolutely breathtaking. If Cas wasn’t gay, he would undoubtedly want her.

“You look beautiful, Meg.”

“Good, that means our little plan will work,” she said as she walked her way in and sat on Cas’s bed. Although she was wearing heels, her feet didn’t reach the floor when she sat down.

“You really think he’ll get jealous?” Cas quirked his eyebrows together.

Meg looked down and adjusted her boobs so they perked up a bit more. “Yeah, I think he will.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Alright, let’s get going,” he said, holding out his hand to pull her up.

The Roadhouse was in west campus. Cas followed Meg’s lead down the narrow sidewalks. When she announced that they were almost a block away, his stomach tightened and a nervous lump formed in his throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow down. Not only was he about to see Dean for the first time since Monday, he was meeting him for a date _and_ going to attempt to make him jealous. No pressure, right?

Meg grabbed Cas’s hand, intertwining their fingers together. Sensing his confusion, she turned to him and smiled. “If we’re gonna make him jealous, we have to look the part. Don’t worry, it’s just handholding. It’s not like you’re cupping my vagina or anything.”

They shared a robust laugh before the Roadhouse came into full view. It looked somewhat dilapidated. The structure was made entirely out of wood with a large red neon sign that hung above the main entrance that read “THE ROADHOUSE.”

“Is this a bar?” Cas asked Meg.

“Yeah. Well, it’s more of a dive. The food is cheap, but it’s really good, I swear.”

There was a group of guys standing outside smoking. They seemed to be focused on whatever it was they were talking about until one of them caught a glimpse of Meg.

“Hey, pretty lady,” one of them called out, “how’s about you pull up that dress a little more?”

“Fuck off,” Meg spat.

“Oooh, feisty,” one of them reached for her as they passed by.

“She said fuck off, asshole,” Cas growled as he shot him a deadly look.

The guy held up his hands in defeat. “Sorry, man, didn’t realize she was yours.”

Walking through the door, Meg shot Cas a thankful look. If those guys really thought they were together, then maybe Dean would, too. The thought made him feel uneasy. What if Dean got pissed? What if he never talked to him again? He tightened his grip on Meg’s hand.

“Hey, relax, it’ll be okay,” she said.

The Roadhouse was somewhat crowded and smelled like burgers and beer coupled with the sound of clanking glasses and good times. To his surprise, Cas enjoyed the environment; everyone seemed relaxed and happy. Meg pulled him around the place, maneuvering around tables, chairs, and people until they stopped at the edge of a large group of standstill bodies.

Cas pulled out his phone to check the time. It was 7:30, so Dean probably wasn’t there yet. He put his phone back in his pocket and craned his neck to see what everyone was looking at, catching a quick glimpse of a stage and a stool and microphone in the center with a single spotlight cascading down on them.

“They have live music here?” Cas bent down so he was closer to Meg’s ear.

“Yeah, isn’t it great? I think I heard someone say someone was playing guitar tonight. Let’s get closer.”

Meg grabbed his hand and pushed her way through the sea of people until they were in the front row. Cas stood behind her, placing his hands on her waist. Startled, she turned back to look at him.

“What?” he laughed. “I’m playing the part.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes at him before redirecting her attention to the stage. A petite—yet tough-looking—girl with long, wavy blonde hair made her way to the microphone, tapping it a few times to check if it was on.

“Hey, y’all! Welcome to the Roadhouse. We hope y’all are having a good time, and if you’re not, get the hell out,” she smiled and the crowd chuckled. “Seriously though, my name is Jo and my mama, Ellen, is working behind the bar. Thank y’all for coming, and put your hands together for Mr. Dean Winchester!”


	4. Why Don't You & I

Jo scurried off the stage as the crowd cheered in anticipation for Dean. Cas tightened his grip on Meg’s waist and he suddenly forgot how to function. He hadn’t seen Dean since Monday, so he knew seeing him again would certainly make their meeting up that much more difficult. It was always so hard to concentrate on anything when Cas even thought of Dean, but now he was about to be just a few feet away from him, watching him play an instrument and probably sing, no less. He could swoon from the simple idea of it.

“Hey, Cas?” Meg turned her head to the side and put her hands on his. “Cas, breathe.”

He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until then. “I—I’m nervous,” he exhaled. He wanted to say more, but anxiety stole the words right from his mouth.

“I know, but it’ll be okay,” Meg lightly patted his hands before the house lights dimmed, making the single spotlight above the stool and microphone even more daunting.

Cas was skeptical about the success of his and Meg’s plan. What if Dean got pissed and never talked to him again? He barely knew the guy, but the thought of never hearing from Dean again was almost enough to kill him. He didn’t know how or why he cared so much about some cocky, green-eyed drum captain that may or may not be gay, but there was no denying that he did in fact care.

The heavy black curtain twitched a bit before splitting in two, revealing the one and only Dean Winchester. He was wearing a fitted black Led Zeppelin t-shirt and distressed light-washed jeans that had more holes in them than pockets. He carried a beautiful Ovation guitar in his left hand, looked up at the crowd, smiled, waved, and took a seat on the stool. The crowd cheered once more as he adjusted the mic to the proper height.

Cas’s lips involuntarily parted as he took in the view before him: Dean Winchester in a teasingly tight shirt, tight jeans, and a red wood guitar that looked so natural within his grasp. To top it all off, the spotlight above him gave the illusion of the heavens raining down on him in such a way that made him glow almost angelically. He was so breathtakingly beautiful, and he hadn’t even said, sang, or played anything yet.

Dean cleared his throat before speaking. “Hello, I’m Dean Winchester,” he said in a Johnny Cash voice. The crowd laughed before quieting to allow him to speak again.

“He’s… perfect,” Cas whispered to himself.

Meg laughed and nudged her elbow behind her into Cas’s ribs, which tickled a laugh out of him.

Dean turned his head in their direction and locked eyes with Cas, who still had his hands firmly planted on Meg’s hips. A hint of confusion briefly crossed his face as he looked back and forth between the two of them, his eyes finally landing on Cas’s hands, clenching his jaw as he did so. Cas swallowed down his nerves, still trying to maintain his cool.

“I think it’s working,” he whispered and smiled against the shell of Meg’s ear. She got the hint and threw her head back on his chest and let out a flirty-sounding laugh.

Cas looked up at Dean, who was still intently watching them, and gave him a quick wink and a smile. He had no idea where all of this confidence was coming from, but man, he sure was enjoying himself. Dean looked down at his guitar in attempt to hide a smile, and if Cas didn’t know any better, he’d say Dean was blushing.

Dean cleared his throat once more and looked up at the audience. “I gotta let all of y’all in on a little secret,” he paused, “see, I have a date tonight, but I’m not so sure they’re into me, ya know?” Dean paused again as he tuned his A-string. “So, I was wondering if this song could maybe win them over.”

Cas tried not to think about why he said “they” instead of “he.” _Was Dean ashamed of his sexuality or of me?_ Luckily Dean started playing before Cas could overthink it too much. Dean looked down and closed his eyes as he played the Spanish-sounding melody. Lifting his head to the microphone, he drew in a breath, and slowly opened his eyes so he was looking directly at Cas, who suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“ _Since the moment I spotted you, I float around with little wings on my shoes. My stomach’s filled with the butterflies, oooh and it’s alright_ …”

Dean’s singing felt and sounded like sunshine on a cloudy day. Every word was laced with the warm honey of his voice, leaving Cas weak in the knees. He recognized the tune immediately as Santana’s “Why Don’t You & I”. Michael and Gabriel would always ask him to skip it whenever it would shuffle on his iPod.

“Santana? Really, Cassie?” Gabriel mocked.

“Yeah, seriously, man?!” Michael would join in.

“What? He has impeccable rhythm!” Castiel retorted. He made it a point to always defend the things he loved, especially his music.

Dean continued singing all the while staring into Cas’s eyes. Even in the darkness, those baby blues shone like diamonds and made it damn near impossible for Dean to turn away, not that he’d ever want to.

“… _Bouncin’ round from cloud to cloud, I got the feelin’ that I’m never gonna come down. If I said I didn’t like it then you know I lied, oooh_.”

Cas and Meg were swaying back and forth, his hands still on her hips. She turned her head to look at him and said, “You realize this song is all for you, right?” Cas beamed in response, which made Dean smile as he sang.

“ _Every time I try to talk to you, I get tongue-tied. Turns out everything I say to you comes out wrong, it never comes out right, so I say why don’t you and I get together, take on the world and be together forever? Heads, we will. Tails, we’ll try again_.”

Cas was mesmerized throughout the entirety of the song and barely realized it was over until the audience erupted into applause and whistles, breaking him from his trance. Dean thanked everyone before standing, waving, and heading back behind the curtain.

Meg spun around to face Cas, who respectfully removed his hands from her waist. “Well, I think it worked!” she chimed.

“I think so, too,” he laughed as she kissed him on the cheek.

“Go get ‘em, tiger. I’m going to dance for a little while before heading back to my room. Don’t wait up,” she winked and walked away.

Cas scanned the crowd for Dean but didn’t see him. Ten minutes had passed since his performance, so where was he? By that time, another act was on stage who called themselves Louden Swain. Slightly paranoid, Cas looked down at his phone. 7:51pm. _Where is he?_ Cas thought, but was soon answered by a warm hand on his shoulder.

Startled, Cas spun around only to be greeted by big green eyes and pearly whites. “You’re early,” Dean smiled wider.

Cas dropped his eyes to the floor with rogued cheeks and a stupidly giddy smile. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Where’s your friend?”

“Who? Oh, Meg. She’s,” Cas paused to look around for her, “somewhere.”

“Hmmm. Well, finders keepers,” Dean said as he ran his hand down Cas’s arm, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him through the sea of people until they reached a secluded booth all the way in the back. After sliding into the booth, Jo, the blonde who introduced Dean onstage, approached the table.

“What can I get for you, Jack Johnson?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Dean smirked. “Two drafts and some whiskey.”

“Is he even of age?” Jo said as she pointed at Cas, who fidgeted nervously in his seat.

“Wow, Jo, I’m offended you would even ask such a thing,” Dean sarcastically put his hand over his chest as if he was insulted.

“Alright,” she rolled her eyes, “just don’t tell my mom.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

Jo turned and walked over to the bar, and the second she was out of earshot, Dean spoke.

“So, how are you liking band?”

“What? Oh, um,” Cas cleared his throat and tried his best to sound coherent, “it’s been… frustrating, I guess.”

“And why do you say that?” Dean asked with sincere confusion.

“Well, I’m a second trumpet right now, but I really want to be first.”

“You’ll get there, believe me. If you always play as good as you did when I saw you Monday, you got nothin’ to worry about.”

Flustered, Cas looked down at the table and focused on the grain of the wood. Not only did Dean just compliment him, but he reminded him about their encounter on Monday. Cas still remembered how Dean’s lips felt against his, causing him to blush even more.

“Here you go, boys,” Jo said as she placed their drinks down in front of them. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Tell Ellen I said hi,” Dean smiled.

“Okay, but I should warn you that she wants to kick your ass for not saying hi to her when you got here.”

“Eh, she’ll get over it. She loves me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jo laughed before returning back to the bar.

Cas eyed the drinks set in front of him with visible apprehension.

“What, you ain’t never had a drink before?” Dean snickered.

“Uh, no. I haven’t, actually,” Cas tried his best to hide his embarrassment.

“Well,” Dean reached across the table to cover Cas’s hand with his own and gave it a gentle squeeze, “there’s a first time for everything.”

Looking into Dean’s eyes, Cas saw a deeper meaning there as if Dean meant that whatever was going on between the two of them was Dean’s first time being with a guy. That had to be what he meant considering there was no way in hell Dean could possibly know that Cas was a virgin, let alone never went out on a date with anyone.

After a probably inappropriate amount of time just sitting there starting into each other’s eyes, Dean finally released Cas’s hand and grabbed the shot of whiskey and Cas did the same.

“Bottoms up,” Dean said before briefly tapping the glass back down on the table and knocking it back into his mouth.

The way the glass fit to Dean’s plush lips and the way the whiskey left them a little wet was enough to make Cas forget what was even going on. He’s only been thinking about those lips every day since Monday. The sound of the empty glass hitting the table snapped him back to reality.

Dean’s eyes shifted between Cas and his undrunk shot. “Are you gonna—”

Cas repeated Dean’s pre-shot ritual by hitting it down on the table and tossing it back quickly, unaware of what to expect. Initially, it didn’t taste so great, but the warmth that spilled into his belly and the slightest flavor of honey that lingered in his mouth was really nice. He wondered why he had never done this before as he placed the glass back on the table and met Dean’s expectant eyes.

“Wow,” Dean breathed, “that was your first drink ever? Could’ve fooled me.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, man. I guess I expected you to spit it out or at least make a face, but you took it like a champ.”

An awkward silence grew between them once the alternate meaning of what Dean had said sank in. They both grabbed their beers; Dean practically gulping his down and Cas sipping his gingerly, wishing Dean had ordered more whiskey instead.

“So, how’s your girlfriend?” Cas impulsively asked, causing Dean to choke on his beer.

“What?”

“Uh, your girlfriend, Anna. How is she?”

“Right,” Dean smirked and looked down at the table, a hint of shame in his voice, “my girlfriend. She’s okay, I guess. I don’t really talk to her much.”

“Why not?” He couldn’t help his curiosity now.

“Well, uh, you see, she’s not really my girlfriend.”

“So, what? You just kiss any girl that walks up to you?” He forced a laugh in attempt to lighten the mood.

“She isn’t my girlfriend, Cas,” Dean said as he looked at the other man with sincerity in his eyes. “She wants to be but she’s not.”

“Why?”

Dean tipped his head back and laughed. “What, are we playing twenty questions or something? But I don’t know, I just… I’m just not into her.”

Cas thought what Meg had said a few nights ago about Anna being Dean’s beard, which must be the case. He considered saying something like, “you mean you’re not into girls,” but he didn’t know whether or not that would piss Dean off.

“Besides,” Dean continued, “I’m into someone else.” He grabbed Cas’s leg under the table. Dean winked at him while tracing circles on his knee with his thumb. Cas’s heart fluttered and blood rushed to his face.

“Yeah, I like you, too.”

Dean hooked his hand under Cas's knee and pulled slightly as he leaned across the table, beckoning Cas to meet him halfway. Cas caught on and moved closer to Dean's face until he could feel his breath on his lips. Dean lifted his other hand to caress Cas's cheek. Cas leaned into the touch, parting his lips and drawing in a sharp breath as he did so. Dean took the opportunity to meld his own lips to Cas's, capturing his lower lip between his. Dean tasted faintly of whiskey, intoxicating Cas even further.

Dean briefly ended the kiss only to start a new, hungrier one. A small noise escaped from Cas's throat, which encouraged Dean to keep going. Dean's tongue roamed the inside of Cas's mouth before he withdrew and nibbled on the blue-eyed man's plump lower lip. Arousal electrified every nerve in Cas's body and heated his blood like a live wire. A surge of confidence overcame him as he reciprocated Dean's actions and was immediately rewarded with a moan from the older man.

Too soon, Dean pulled away and opened his lust-blown emerald eyes to meet Cas's. “Why don’t you and I—”

“Get together, take on the world, and be together forever?” Cas interrupted.

“I was going to say get outta here, but yeah,” he smiled, “somethin’ like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are enjoying so far! I apologize for not updating more frequently; I've been busy. I realize this story is moving slowly, but bear with me. I promise there will be smutty goodness and more of a plot soon to come!


	5. Let's Go to My Place

Cas couldn't slide out of that booth fast enough, which Dean couldn't help but chuckle at.

Dean led the way through the sea of people to the exit, pulling the younger man by his wrist as he did so. Cas's legs felt like noodles and he couldn't get that stupid fucking smile off his face. Although it was only their second time, he was pretty sure he would never get tired of Dean kissing him. His head was still swimming as he quickly ran his tongue over his lips where he could still taste the man who was practically yanking his arm out of the socket. It appeared Dean was just as eager as he was once they burst out of the Roadhouse, for the older man slammed him against the side of the building and frantically crashed their mouths together. Both of Dean's hands cupped Cas's face as he pinned the blue-eyed man's hips to the wall with his own, eliciting groans from both of them.

"Hey, pretty boy is back," a familiar, slimy voice mocked, coupled with equally unsettling laughs.

Dean tore away from the kiss to look over his shoulder at the group of guys staring at them. Cas recognized them from earlier when they harassed him and Meg earlier that night.

"Say, where's that pretty little lady friend of yours?" the man paused to take a swig of his beer. "Guess she ain't yours now, is she? Considering you're a fag and all."

The man's friends cackled behind him, handing money to one another as if they had placed bets on Cas's sexual orientation.

Cas clenched his jaw and balled his fists, but Dean held him firmly against the wall with one hand as he tried to control his own anger.

"What? Baby gonna cry?" the man teased.

Cas had never seen anyone move so quickly; Dean pushed off of Cas, took three steps in the man's direction, and landed a single punch to his temple. The man fell over instantly, dropping his beer on the sidewalk as he was knocked out cold. Dean stood over his body and saw red as he looked up at the other men with bared teeth.

"Anyone else got anything to say?" Dean growled.

Cas felt a whirlwind of emotions, but mostly anger and arousal. _Did Dean's voice get lower?_ He was perfectly ready to stand up to that asshole again, but watching Dean take matters into his own hands was a sight to see, and an incredibly hot one at that.

The other men shook their heads and threw up their hands. Cas was sure if any of them had a white flag on them, they'd throw that up, too.

"Good," Dean said as he kicked the unconscious man in the stomach. "Pray I don't see any of you again."

With that, Dean made his way back to Cas, grabbing his wrist and pulling him across the street to the Roadhouse parking lot. By how tight Dean's grip was, Cas could tell Dean was still angry. There was so much he wanted to say to try and calm the older man down, but he couldn't seem to form a coherent thought. Luckily, no one else was outside of the bar and traffic was dead. If anyone else had been around to witness that, the police surely would've been called and charges would've been pressed.

Cas looked over his shoulder to find all the men had dispersed, including the one on the ground. They must have carried him away because there was no way in hell that guy was waking up any time soon.

"Dean?" Cas said but was ignored. "Dean!"

Cas tore his wrist away from Dean's powerful drummer's grip and stood. The older man spun around, meeting green eyes with blue. Cas could see the hardness of Dean's eyes soften the longer they stood there. Neither of them spoke for what felt like years, but Dean broke the silence.

"I-I'm sorry you had to see that," his eyes fell to the asphalt. "I just... I can't stand people like that. Reminds me of-"

"Hey," Cas said as he lifted Dean's face to meet his, letting that comment slide. "It's okay, Dean."

Dean turned a corner of his mouth up in attempt to smile, but quickly let it fall back into place. Cas lightly raked his hand through Dean's hair, allowing it to rest on the back of his neck as he pulled him down into a gentle kiss. When Cas pulled away, he rested their foreheads together. After a moment of just standing there with their eyes closed, feeling their breaths blow over each other's lips, Cas opened his eyes and saw a smile spreading across Dean's face.

"There it is," Cas said, making Dean's smile widen.

Dean pulled their faces apart and looked down at the younger man. "What the hell are you doin' to me, Cas?" he laughed and shook his head before pulling him in by his waist for another kiss.

The loud horn of a fire truck interrupted the moment, making Cas jump.

"C'mon," Dean motioned his head back behind him. "Let's go to my place."

"O-Okay."

Dean walked them further into the parking lot until they reached a 2010 Mustang GTO.

"Ah, is this yours?" Cas inquired.

"Ha!" Dean scoffed. "Nah, its the one behind it."

Cas was pretty sure he was going to faint when he saw the glossy black hood of an old muscle car... the same old muscle car he literally ran into the day before, and he was suddenly aware of the bruise on his shin as if it had clashed with the grill again.  _Shit, shit, shit, I ran into Dean Winchester's car._ The universe was obviously screwing with him. But wait a minute... if this was Dean's car, then that beautiful Victorian house must be his, too. Jesus fucking Christ, could this guy get any hotter?

"Are you gonna get in or just stand there, handsome?" Dean stood with the driver's side door open.

"Right," Cas said as he tried his best to calmly get in the passenger's side without making too much of an ass of himself.

They both slid into the car at the same time and closed the doors behind them.

"1967 Chevy Impala?"

"Yeah, you know cars?"

"I know enough, I suppose."

"This here is Baby," Dean said as he ran his hand over the dash, "and wait 'til you hear her  _purr_."

Of course Dean said "purr" as he started her up. That and the roar of Baby's engine sent a wave of pleasure straight to Cas's groin. Lord, Dean Winchester was going to be the death of him.

Dean reached over Cas to open the glove box and pulled out a Led Zeppelin cassette tape, popping it in the player. The familiar riff of "Moby Dick" blasted through the speakers. Cas was mesmerized by Dean's fingers tapping the steering wheel during the intricate drum solo, never missing a beat.

The short ride was mostly silent aside from the music, which - as musicians - didn't bother them in the slightest. Whenever Cas hung around people, he felt as though they always expected constant conversation. He appreciated the mutual silence. It was just two people enjoying the music. After all, silence often is music.

Cas tried not to show any hint of familiarity upon turning down Cyprus Steet. He didn't need Dean to think that he was some crazy freshman stalker. The bruise on his shin from colliding with Baby's bumper ached as Dean pulled the car to the curb in front of his immaculate home.

"This is it," Dean turned the music down and took the keys from the ignition.

Cas eyed the home he had admired but yesterday. Even in the night, the pristine white stood in contrast from the dark. The intricately designed windows still glistened.

"It's beautiful," Cas said without looking away.

"It was my grandmother's," Dean's tone grew somber and Cas turned to meet the slightly saddened expression on his face. "She died of breast cancer a few years ago and left the place to me."

"I'm sorry about your grandmother, Dean," Cas murmured and involuntarily moved his hand to cover Dean's, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Dean looked down at their joined hands. The warmth from Cas's palm melted away his sadness. He missed his grandmother a lot, especially since she reminded him of his mom.

Before that wound could be opened up, Dean met Cas's eyes with a slight smile. "C'mon, let's go in."

Cas trailed behind Dean on the way to the front door, and damn him for not being able to keep his eyes off Dean. The confident gate of his bowed legs, the way his jeans perfectly showcased the swell of his ass...

" _Damn..._ " he whispered under his breath, perhaps not quietly enough. Dean smirked to himself as he slid the key into the lock.

"After you," Dean pushed the door open, turned the hall light on, and ushered Cas through with a hand on his lower back.

Cas took five steps inside, frozen in awe as he admired the tastefully decorated space. Above all, it was homey. The multicolored - yet complimentary - walls paired with beautiful wood floors and rustic, antique furniture presented a comforting vibe. It wasn't a house, it was a home.

"You like?" Dean whispered behind Cas's ear as he slid closely behind him, placing his hands on his hips.

"Yeah," he replied breathlessly, leaning into the older man's touch. Dean's breath ghosted over the shell of Cas's ear before catching his earlobe between his teeth.

"I'd love to show you around," Dean huffed, holding Cas's hips firmly beneath his hands and rutted his half-hardness against his backside. "One room in particular," he insinuated with a wet kiss on the soft spot behind his ear.

Cas's rapidly growing arousal rendered him speechless. A gravely groan escaped his throat as he threw his head back on Dean's shoulder, nodding feverishly in response.

"Is that what you want, Cas? Want me to show you upstairs?"

Dean rolled his hips into Cas.

"To my room?"

Another sinful thrust.

"My bed?"

And another.

"Yes!" Cas half-screamed. He was already achingly hard despite having done anything yet. All he knew is that he wanted - hell,  _needed -_ this. Needed Dean.

Dean wasted no time spinning Cas around and locking his mouth with the younger boy's. In the same motion, Dean dipped slightly to grab the backs of Cas's thighs, lifting him up and wrapping his legs around his waist. Although Dean wasn't that much older than him, he was certainly stronger. Dean effortlessly carried Cas up the steps to his room, making pit stops against walls and door frames here and there to grind against the freshman. They never separated their mouths from one another as they greedily exchanged hungry, heated kisses and swallowed moans.

The pale moonlight filtered in through the thinly curtained windows of Dean's room. Dean and Cas's shadows became one and their bodies were periodically illuminated by the bluish glow.

"God, Cas..." Dean sighed between kisses. "I don't normally do this sort of thing until the third date," another kiss, "but I want you so  _bad_..."

Cas moaned in response before Dean deposited him on the soft king bed. Dean sat between Cas's parted legs, staring down at him with lust-blown eyes. His lips were parted and even in the dim light, Cas could see a flush on the older boy's cheeks. He looked undoubtedly wrecked, and Cas knew he must have looked the same. Dean still sat above him as if waiting for permission.

"Yes, Dean. Please..."

A smug smile crept onto Dean's face. "Please what?"

"Touch me," Cas begged. "Just touch me."

Dean briefly bent over Cas to press an affectionate kiss to his slightly chapped lips. "Anything you want, baby. Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

A keening noise escaped from the back of Cas's throat as Dean sat back up on his haunches and began to undress him tortuously slow. Once Cas was fully exposed, Dean ran his hands up and down Cas's thighs. "Beautiful," he barely whispered as his eyes traveled up and down the boy's lithe form.

Cas blushed at the compliment. How he ever got so lucky to wrangle himself such an attractive, sweet, and talented guy was beyond him, but the longer Dean took in the sight and worshiped his body, the more nervous he became. He had never done this before, not even anything close. His anxiousness must have been clearly readable on his face because Dean stilled the movement of his hands before giving hum a concerned look.

"Hey, you okay, Cas?"

Feeling like a total novice, Cas averted his gaze from the man above him, ashamed of his innocence.

"Baby, look at me," Dean said softly. Cas hesitantly met his green eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Dean, I-I've never done this before," Cas admitted.

"What, been with a guy?"

"No... I've never been with  _anybody_." _  
_

Cas prepared himself for utter humiliation, for Dean to laugh at him, but he was surprised to meet his sympathetic gaze and tender expression.

"Cas, I don't care if you're a virgin, okay? I'm glad you told me. If you're not ready, that's okay, too. I won't push you into anything," Dean said as he took Cas's hand into his own, brought it up to his mouth, and kiss each knuckle.

Cas couldn't help but smile at how gentle and understanding Dean was being with him because most guys who look that good are usually "a great big bag of dicks," as his brother would put it. He never really cared about losing his virginity. In fact, he almost gave up on the entire idea of sex. Everyone he went to high school with had a V-card story, but not him, at least not a real one. Sure, one of the things on his college "to do" list was to lose his virginity, but he was in no rush. Music always came first. Literally. But the fall semester hasn't even technically begun yet and here he was, sprawled out on the senior drum captain's bed. Not that he was complaining or anything, he just didn't think it would happen so soon. Cas had also always imagined saving his virtue for someone he really liked, someone special, and even after the very short amount of time he has spent with Dean Winchester, he knew that he was both of those things.

"It's okay. I'm ready, Dean."

Dean released his hand and hovered back over him. He kissed him softly before pulling back just enough to look into Cas's eyes. "I'm gonna take real good care of you, baby. I promise."

After a few more pecks, Dean sat up and stripped himself of his clothing, throwing them on the floor every which way. Kneeling between the younger boy's legs again, Dean continued to roam over the plains of his body with his calloused drummer hands before dipping his head down low and licking a broad stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. Cas yelped in pleasure, his hand moving down to card through Dean's short brown hair on its own accord.

"Just let me know if you want me to stop, okay?"

"Are you crazy? Please don't stop," Cas panted, to which Dean laughed.

He took Cas into his mouth then, hallowing his cheeks as he sucked the boy down as far as he could and looked up at him from beneath his lashes. That was almost enough to send Cas over the edge, but he held on as Dean continued to bob his head up and down, running the flat of his tongue along the prominent vein on the underside of Cas's cock to create delicious, wet friction.

Dean pulled off only to swipe his tongue over Cas's slit before swallowing him back down again. A warmth began to coil in Cas's lower abdomen. It was only a matter of time before he spilled a load down Dean's skilled mouth.

"Dean, I-I...  _Fuck_."

Catching the drift, Dean released Cas from his mouth with a loud pop. His perfectly sculpted lips were swollen and glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and Cas's salty leakage. "So gorgeous, Cas."

Cas fought off his orgasm as he watched Dean reach over to the bedside table and extract a bottle of lube and a condom. The sight of those two things somewhat frightened Cas, but they excited him more than anything else. Although he was a virgin, he wasn't  _completely_ ignorant in sexual matters. The Internet proved to be very educational in that department.

Cas watched in awe as Dean took the small bottle and slathered his fingers with the substance. The moonlight cast shadows over Dean's face, exaggerating his chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and angular nose. He was absolutely breathtaking. Cas was sure that he would never get tired of looking at the man. He raked his eyes from Dean's face down his strong body, resting his gaze on the long, thick leaking member bobbing between his legs. The sight made his mouth water and his blood electrify tenfold.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Dean asked as he trailed his lubricated finger from the tip of Cas's cock, down the shaft, over his balls, and to his puckered opening.

Cas's breath hitched in his throat. He wanted this so bad, but he could tell that Dean was holding back, that he was treating him like some fragile thing. Though he appreciated Dean's tenderness, he was ready and he wanted Dean to let go. He trusted Dean wholeheartedly, and while that idea was absolutely terrifying, it also made his heart flutter.

"Did it ever occur to you that your name rhymes with 'tease'?" Cas said playfully.

"Ah, a wise guy," Dean chuckled as he applied some pressure to Cas's opening with the pad of his index finger, rubbing circles around it.

All humor aside, Cas was practically convulsing with pure, wanton pleasure. "Oh,  _fuck_..." he groaned.

"That's what I thought," Dean growled before pushing his finger in to the first knuckle. Cas tensed and involuntarily clenched around the intrusion. "Relax, baby," Dean soothed. "You gotta relax."

Dean's voice comforted Cas, causing him to loosen up. Dean withdrew his finger and pushed it back in further this time. Pleasure and pain swirled through Cas, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Dean's finger continued to pump slowly in and out of the tight entrance. More pleasure replacing pain, Cas opened his eyes and looked at Dean, who was staring down between them and watching his finger disappear inside of the freshman.

"Dean," Cas moaned, " _more_."

Dean let out a low, filthy groan before sliding his middle finger alongside his index, pushing both into Cas. He looked up at Cas, who had his bottom lip between his teeth to accommodate for the expansion.

"Feel good, darlin'?" Dean smirked.

Cas nodded in agreement.

"Uh-uh," Dean shook his head. "Use your words, Cas. I wanna hear you. I wanna hear that dirty little mouth of yours." At that moment, he pushed a third and final finger in. After a few quick pumps, he curled his fingers up to rub his prostate.

"Dean! Oh,  _God_... Ugnhhh. Need you."

"Tell me. Tell me what you need."

"Need you inside me. Dean, please!" Cas half-screamed.

" _Fuck_. Okay, baby."

Dean quickly withdrew his fingers to grab the condom. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and rolled it onto his painfully hard cock. He hadn't touched himself all night and had been dying for some friction, so he groaned low and deep as he rolled the condom on. Grabbing the bottle of lube, Dean poured a generous amount onto his hands before slicking his dick up with it.

Lining up with and pressing the blunt, thick head of his cock to Cas's stretched opening, Dean looked down to the younger boy's face. "Cas, look at me."

Cas's eyes flashed up to Dean's, not breaking contact as Dean slowly pushed into him. They both let out long, downright sinful noises as Dean pushed all the way in to the hilt.

"So fucking tight, Cas,  _shit_ ," Dean grunted.

He gave Cas time to adjust to the size of him, only commencing once Cas wrapped his legs around his waist, urging him to move.

At first, Dean rolled his hips gently into Cas and placed lazy, open-mouthed kisses all over his neck. Cas ran his hands over Dean's muscular back, causing the senior to groan against the crook of his neck.

"Mmmm, mine."

Honestly, Cas was a taken back by this proclamation. Did Dean truly mean that? Did he mean it in more than a sexual way?

Too fueled by his desire to care about the answers to those questions at the moment, Cas noticed that the pain subsided completely and that he wanted,  _needed_ more.

"Dean, fuck me. Fuck me harder."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He sat up on his knees and started to pound mercilessly into Cas, holding him in place by his "could cut glass" hipbones.

"You like that, Cas? You like how my big dick feels in that tight little ass of yours?"

"Yes! I love it, Dean. Feels so good," Cas moaned as he gripped the sheets on either side of him. He could feel his orgasm building as Dean kept ramming into him, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

All they could hear was the sound of their skin slapping against each other, their labored breathing, and their frantic moans, and it was all too much. It was all so _hot_.

"Come for me, Cas. Wanna see you come," Dean commanded, and that was all Cas needed.

" _Dean!_ " Cas wailed as he arched his body off the bed as his orgasm completely overtook him, painting his chest and stomach with thick ropes of come.

"Oooh,  _fuck! Cas!_ " Dean yelled, feeling Cas clench around his cock.

He collapsed on top of the younger boy, uncaring of the sticky mess between them. They both just lie there for a moment, catching their breaths after the most intense sexual experience honestly either one of them has ever had.

After a moment, Dean removed his softening cock from Cas's ass, removed and tied-off the condom, and threw it in the trashcan beside his bed. Then, he quickly padded off to his bathroom for a damp washcloth to clean them up. Cas was again in awe as he watched Dean's tender after-care routine.

Dean tossed the washcloth toward the direction of the hamper and pulled the blankets up and over him and Cas where they both rode the highs of their orgasms. Cas rolled over so that he was resting his head on Dean's chest and curled himself around the man. They were both too tired to talk, though Cas especially wanted to discuss the "mine" comment. Dean wrapped his arms tightly around Cas and nuzzled his nose into the boy's post-sex hair, reveling in the scent.

"G'night, Cas."

"Night, Dean."


	6. Mint Is For Toothpaste, Not Ice Cream

Cas woke slowly. His joints were stiff and his body was sore from last night's escapade, though the pain brought a small smile to his lips. Dean was so gentle and yet incredibly passionate. It floored Cas how understanding Dean was about his virginity. Cas didn't know much about Dean, but judging by the undeniable popularity that came with being the senior drum captain, he honestly expected him to be somewhat of an asshole. As wrong as it was to stereotype Dean based off of that, Cas couldn't help it. Dean was gorgeous, popular,  _and_ tenured. All of those things could only mean one thing: Dean was  _very_ sexually active, so it just surprised Cas how sympathetic he was last night.

Speaking of Dean, where was he?

Cas wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked around the sun-filled space. In the light, he could finally see Dean's room. Unlike the antiquity of the rest of the home, Dean's room wasn't fancy but was obviously his. Led Zeppelin and vintage car posters covered almost the entire surface area of the dark beige walls, which contrasted the forest green bedding. The earthy tones made the room feel warm, including the strong essence of Dean it exuded. Sitting up, Cas spotted a very extensive vinyl collection next to a couple snare drums, which he knew he would definitely have to check out later. Some denim, flannel, and leather was pooled in random areas mostly near the hamper, and Cas saw articles of his own clothing strewn across the floor.

Before he could admire the room any further, he heard a muffled voice coming from the bathroom connected to the room. He knew it was Dean, and once the fogginess of sleep faded away, he could easily hear the conversation. Sure, he felt wrong for eavesdropping, but with no other noise to be heard, it was pretty hard to ignore.

"You know I would if I could, Sammy."

Cas remembered Dean had a little brother named Sam. Needless to say, Cas's interest was peaked because Dean's tone sounded somber.

"Look, it'll be okay, alright? One more year and you won't have to see him anymore, and you'll be in nerd heaven," Dean chuckled in attempt to lighten the mood.

After a pause, Dean continued. "Go to Sarah's tonight then. I'm sure she'll let you stay the night."

Another pause.

"Text me when you get to her place, and don't... don't worry about Dad."

Pause.

"Alright, I gotta go, too, kiddo."

Pause.

"Bitch."

Cas assumed that was the end of the conversation since he heard footsteps on the other side of the bathroom door. He quickly laid back down so Dean wouldn't think he was eavesdropping. Hopefully everything was okay with Sam. By the sound of it, something happened with their dad and Sam had to seek refuge somewhere. He knew it was none of his business, but that didn't mean he still couldn't worry.

Cas turned his head towards the bathroom as he heard Dean open the door. Dean wore only a pair of red Witchita Wolverines sweatpants slung low on his hips. God, he was gorgeous.

"Mornin', sunshine," Dean smiled and leaned against the door frame.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas said as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Dean captured his lower lip between his teeth as he got a view of Cas's serious case of sex/bedhead. Cas blushed at the look the older man was giving him and squirmed underneath the blankets before speaking again. "So, I'm pretty sure I'm going to feel last night for a solid week or two."

Dean threw his head back and laughed. "Good," he replied as he sauntered his way over to the bed, climbing on top of Cas and straddling his hips as he spoke. "That way, you won't forget who that tight little ass belongs to."

"S-So" Cas lost his train of thought as Dean braced himself on all-fours above him and began to suck on his neck. He could've easily allowed himself to get carried away, considering Dean Winchester was literally sex on (bowed) legs, but he needed to get this out of the way sooner rather than later. "So, is that what you meant last night about 'mine'?"

Dean stilled and pulled himself away from Cas's neck so he could look him in the eyes. "Yeah. Is that okay?"

"What, that you want me to be yours?"

Dean nodded sheepishly, obviously nervous of Cas's response.

Cas laughed, which took Dean by surprise. "Dean, I would love to be yours, but we barely know anything about each other, at least, in a nonphysical sense."

"Ha, yeah, I guess that's true," Dean admitted and let his eyes fall at an empty space on the comforter. "I don't know, I just feel this... connection between us, you know? I don't know how or why, but I just do. I've been going crazy over you since I first saw you."

Dean's confession made the butterflies that have made Cas's stomach their home ever since he met the green-eyed man whirl around excitedly, mostly because he felt the same way. Sure, Dean was wonderful to look at, but there was something about him Cas couldn't get quite enough of. He wanted to know what his favorite movie was, what kind of candy he liked, what songs made him cry. He wanted to know about his little brother, his father, his hopes and dreams. He wanted to know all of it and then some.

"Jesus, say somethin', Cas," Dean pleaded.

"Okay," Cas sighed as he rested his hands on Dean's thighs, looking him in the eyes as he spoke. "I-I feel the same way, Dean. I honestly don't know how any of this works, but maybe we can start with getting to know each other."

"Sounds like a plan, handsome."

* * *

After a steamy make-out session, Dean suggested that he and Cas go out to this little diner just outside of town. By the time their hormones settled and they got dressed, it was close to noon. Cas checked his phone on the ride to the diner and was welcomed with a slue of messages from Meg. She was dying to know how he and Dean's date went. Cas replied by informing her that he and Dean were on their way to their second date now, which he knew would rile her up more. It was quite hysterical.

The ride to Allie's Diner was only about twenty minutes, which Dean and Cas spent singing along to classic rock tunes. Dean was honestly surprised that Cas - this nerdy, little trumpet-playing dude - knew his way around some Aerosmith and Thin Lizzy. This "getting to know each other" thing was a pretty great idea.

Allie's was a Hollywood-style diner with pictures and other memorabilia everywhere of legendary stars and starlets. Dean and Cas slid into the _Wizard of Oz_ themed booth, complete with emerald upholstery and a yellow-top table. Some people might think Allie's to be cheesy or over-the-top, but Cas thought it was brilliant. He smiled up at the picture of Judy Garland as he got settled.

"I take it you got the hots for Dorothy," Dean said.

Cas pulled his eyes from the picture to meet Dean's emerald eyes, which matched the sparkly, plastic booth behind him. "Oh, definitely," he chuckled sarcastically.

A waitress approached their table to take their orders. Dean - being a regular - didn't even need to look at the menu, and Cas decided to take Dean's word for it and order the same thing: a "Little Bastard" burger. When the waitress walked away, Dean leaned closer to Cas over the table.

"So, tell me about yourself. I'm all ears," he said as he flashed that heart-stopping smile.

"Um, well, I'm a Kansas native," Cas replied, figuring that was the best place to start.

"Huh, you don't say? Me, too. I'm from Lawrence."

"Ah, St. Francis."

Dean whistled. "Damn, that's a hike."

"Tell me about it."

Cas missed home, even now as he was sitting across from the wonderful Mr. Dean Winchester. He loved his mother more than anything, and he despised his father for never being there for her. Luckily, the waitress returned with their drinks before Dean could question the look on Cas's face.

"So," Cas continued, "you're from Lawrence? I've passed through there once or twice. Never stopped, but from what I saw, I liked it."

"Yeah," Dean said before taking a quick sip of his soda. "I got a soft spot for that place."

"Because of your brother?"

Dean froze and Cas immediately regretted bringing that little tidbit up. Dean hadn't talked to him about Sam yet, which probably made him seem like the obsessive, pining freshman he definitely didn't want to be labeled as.

"How did you-"

"Meg," Cas interrupted and met Dean's confused expression. "Meg told me you have a brother."

"Masters," Dean dropped his eyes to the table and chuckled to himself. "And yeah, his name is Sammy."

"What's he like?"

Dean was honestly surprised by Cas's question. No one - friend or lover - has ever really asked about Sam, with the exception of his best friend, Charlie. Dean went on to tell Cas about Sam. Cas learned that Sam was a senior in high school with a full ride to Stanford waiting for him after graduation. Sam wants to be a lawyer, which Dean believes he was born to be because "the kid never loses an argument."

The way Dean's face lit up when he talked about Sam melted Cas's heart, but he could tell that there was maybe more to their relationship than meets the eye. He almost talked about Sam as if he were his parent, and if the phone call Cas overheard earlier was anything to go by, Dean certainly was.

"I'm sure y'all would get along just fine, too," Dean said endearingly.

"I would love to meet him sometime, Dean. It sounds like you two are very close."

"Yeah, well, I kinda raised the kid."

Before Cas could inquire more, the waitress gave them their food. Dean gladly took the distraction and grabbed his burger, which Cas copied. They both took a bite and moaned around their mouthfuls. No offense to Dean's loyalty to the Roadhouse, but this place just became Cas's favorite restaurant ever.

"Good, right?" Dean questioned.

"Understatement," Cas replied as he greedily took another bite.

They finished their meals in silence, too distracted by the food to talk. After wrecking those "Little Bastard" burgers (pun intended), Dean sat back with one arm draped over the booth and a carefree smile on his face.

"So, what about your family? Any siblings?"

"I have two older brothers, Gabriel and Michael. They're fraternal twins, which meant I was the target of many pranks growing up," Cas smiled fondly. Despite the shenanigans they'd pull on him, he really missed them. "Now, they're senior football players at the University of Delaware. The Baltimore Ravens have been keeping a close eye on them."

"Are you shittin' me? That's amazing!" Dean exclaimed.

"Yeah, I don't get to see them much anymore though. We became distant once they got into college, partly because Delaware is so far away and because they rarely cone home."

Cas tried his best to cover the sadness in his tone. He knew his brothers were busy, but still. Dean caught onto the somberness of Cas's voice, but Cas continued before he could respond. "But it's whatever. I'm really proud of them, and I know they'll do great things."

"I'm sure they will, Cas," Dean said as he slid his hands across the table to grab Cas's. "And I'm sure they miss you, too."

Cas ducked his head and blushed as the waitress returned to clear their table. "Can I get you anything else?"

"I'll have me a slice of apple pie," Dean said and turned to Cas. "You want anything, baby?"

"Uh, I'll have some mint chocolate chip ice cream, thank you."

"Alrighty!" The waitress beamed. She quickly returned with their dessert and placed the check down on the table. "Let me know if you need anything. Dessert is on me because you two are just about the cutest damn thing I have ever seen. Enjoy!"

Yeah, this is  _definitely_ Cas's new favorite place. The waitress skipped away before either of them had time to thank her.

"That was very sweet of her."

"Right?! Maybe I should take you out more often if it'll get me free pie," Dean joked.

"Shut up," Cas laughed as he pulled his mint chocolate ship ice cream closer to him. Just as he was about to dig in, he noticed Dean looking at him with a strange look on his face. "What?"

"Mint is for toothpaste, not ice cream."

"Have you ever tried it, Dean?"

"Well, no, but-"

Cas took a spoonful of his ice cream and shoved the it into Dean's mouth. He giggled at Dean's apprehension and overall childishness. He withdrew the spoon and watched the expressions sweep across Dean's face: confusion, contemplation, and surprise.

"So, what do you think?"

Dean swallowed before responding. "I think I gotta get me some of that next time."

 _Next time?_ Cas smiled and thought about everything that happened during this extended/second date. After everything that happened from the Roadhouse to now, Cas was floating on air. Although the prospect of a relationship did seem rather daunting and scary, he wanted to have one with Dean, he was sure of it.

Dean was an enigma wrapped inside an enigma that Cas wanted so desperately to unravel, and by the talk they had this morning about the connection between them, Dean feels the same way. Yeah, they had a lot more to learn about each other, but they had all the time in the world.

"What?" Dean broke Cas's trance.

"Nothing," Cas smiled. "Just happy to be here."

"Yeah?" Dean put his fork down and reached out to caress Cas's face, rubbing his thumb over his cheek. Cas leaned into the touch and covered Dean's hand with his own. "Diddo."


	7. Don't Let That Drummer Boy Break Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long it's taken me to update, but better late than never, right? To all who have read and are reading, thank you SO much. This is my first attempt at a long fic, so thank you for sticking with me. The plot is about to thicken. Like, A LOT. Enjoy! :-)

After Allie's, Dean and Cas walked out to the parking lot and to the Impala. Dean's phone buzzed as he slid into the driver's seat. He pulled it out of his pocket to read the text message. Cas saw Dean's face tighten and his jaw clench. Although he knew that it probably had something to do with Sam, he chose to play dumb.

"Dean, is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Just... something came up."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Dean didn't answer. If Cas knew how fucked up his home life was, he'd probably head for the hills. Instead, he reached over to grab Cas's hand and give it a light squeeze.

"So, where you stayin', Cas?"

It was obvious Dean didn't feel comfortable talking about Sam - or whatever the hell it was - with Cas. Not yet, at least. He decided not to push the issue and told Dean which building he lived in. Honestly, he wanted to spend the rest of the day with Dean, but he understood why he couldn't.

From what Cas heard, Dean had told Sam to text him when he got to Sarah's house to assure his safety. Perhaps something went wrong, but he hoped to God not. Dean didn't know Cas knew that, of course.

They rode in a looming silence; Cas's concerns and questions raced through his head, and it was obvious Dean was also deep in thought. At least the radio was on to fill the void.

Dean pulled into the parking lot outside of Cas's building. "Well," he started as he put the car in park. "This is it."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said just as he reached for the handle to exit the car despite the fact that he didn't want to go. He knew Dean had other things to worry about though.

"Cas, wait," Dean reached across and held the passenger door shut. "I'd love to spend the rest of the day with you if I could, but I gotta take care of something, okay? I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Dean," Cas grabbed Dean's hand between both of his. He chose his words carefully in hopes of not giving the fact that he knew about Sam away. "I understand. You have responsibilities, and that's nothing to be sorry for."

"You're awesome," Dean smiled before leaning in and giving Cas a quick peck. "I'll text you, okay?"

"Okay," Cas squeezed Dean's hands again before releasing them. "Goodbye, Dean," he said as he climbed out of the Impala.

"Bye, baby."

Cas's heart fluttered at the sentiment. Walking to the door of his building, he heard Dean peel out of the parking lot fast as lightning. Something must really be wrong...

Cas shook the thought as he scanned his ID to get into the building. Finally inside his room, he flopped onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling as he replayed everything Dean had ever said and done to him.

Cas had crushes in high school but never acted upon them in fear of how people would respond to his sexuality. Those crushes never lived past a week specifically for that reason. But Dean was different.

Dean was Cas's first boyfriend. Although that word hadn't been used yet, he figured it was implied because of the whole "mine" thing and Dean's proclamation of feelings. He'd only known Dean for a little under a week and he already felt so strongly about the man, even before he took his virginity. Truthfully, it was exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

 _"Bye, baby,"_ Dean's voice echoed in his head. With that, Cas drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_Bang, bang, bang!_

"Cas?! I know you're in there," Meg's voice boomed from the hall. "Don't make me break this door down!"

_Bang, bang!_

Cas groaned and rolled off his bed. "Coming!"

The second he opened the door, Meg was pushing past him. She jumped on his bed and turned to face him. She was wearing a blue vest with a nametag; she must've just come from a shift at the Gas-N-Sip.

"It's good to see you, too, Meg," Cas chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah," she waved her hand nonchalantly. "Now, spill."

Cas joined Meg on his bed. He recounted the night and day's events, though he left the more intimate details out for decency's sake. She didn't judge him for his virginity, or lack thereof, which he appreciated dearly. She squealed here and there, especially when he relayed how Dean called him his and mentioned this unexplainable connection he felt between them.

After laying it all out on the table, Cas suggested that they get dinner, seeing as how it was 7pm by that time. Surprise, surprise, they got Chinese.

"Hey, hot stuff," Meg addressed.

"Yeah?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm beyond happy for you, but I just want you to be careful, okay?"

Cas stabbed a piece of General TSO's chicken and lifted it to his mouth as he spoke. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know. Just sometimes, Dean seems... troubled. I guess what I'm trying to say is don't let that drummer boy break your heart."

"I'll try my best."

* * *

Meg left shortly after they finished eating. She was exhausted from her shift and needed a long night's rest.

Cas kept himself busy by straightening up his room. He hung up a trumpet fingerings chart and two posters: one of Louis Armstrong and the other of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. He loved classical music and jazz, but he also enjoyed classic rock. There just aren't that many bands around anymore with the lyricism and musicality of Led Zeppelin.

Cas's mind wandered off to Dean and the Led Zeppelin posters plastered all over his room. He shook Dean from his thoughts then. Dean said he would text him, so if he didn't keep busy, he knew he would be checking his phone every thirty seconds like some hormonal teenaged girl.

So, Cas continued to decorate his room. He pulled out two framed pictures from the box beneath his bed and placed them on his desk/nightstand.

One was of his mother. He took the picture one Sunday morning as she sat in the garden, surrounded by hundreds of tulips. She didn't know he was taking the picture, but he didn't care. He captured her sunkissed profile, staring out at the horizon with a faint smile on her lips. It was his favorite picture of her, and it always cheered him up when he was sad. He really needed to give her a call.

The other was of him, Gabriel, and Michael on the fourth of July before they went to UD. They were all wearing red, white, and blue with their arms linked behind each other's backs. Cas stood in the middle wrapped in an American flag and Gabriel and Michael put their fingers behind his head. They all had stupid smiles their faces, and Cas stared at it for a while. God, he missed them, but he knew they were busy.

Once Cas felt his room was settled enough, he grabbed his trumpet case and sat on the bed, but not before checking his phone. Dean still hadn't texted him.

He tossed the phone aside and pulled out his trumpet. He undid the valves and re-oiled them so they wouldn't be sticky Monday during practice. Whether Dean was going to be there or not was a mystery, but he hoped for both his and Sam's sake that he would be.

By the time he finished tending to his trumpet, it was 9:30pm. He got up, undressed, and grabbed his towel and shower caddy and made his way to the bathroom.

"Hello, Castiel," a British voice came from behind him.

He held his towel firmly as he spun around and saw Balthazar - the section-leader of low brass - leaning against the wall. He wasn't sure how the blond-haired man even knew his name.

"Hello, Balthazar. Do you live here?"

The British man laughed and folded his arms across his chest. "No, no, haven't in years," he said before flicking his eyes up to Cas's. "But I know you do."

Cas swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. Something about Balthazar seemed off. The way he was looking at Cas like he was something to eat was one thing, but the fact that he essentially broke into his building simply because he knew Cas lived there was another.

"Y-yes, I do. Now, if you'll excuse me," Cas lifted his shower caddy to imply that he was busy. He walked quickly down the hall to the bathroom.

"I'll see you Monday, Castiel!" Balthazar called from behind him.

Cas thanked God or whoever designed this bathroom that the door could be locked from the inside. Other people who lived on his floor be damned. The energy surrounding Balthazar made him feel uneasy and he'd be a fool not to lock the door.

He washed himself quickly but thoroughly. His heart raced as he showered, in fear that Balthazar would somehow someway come into the bathroom. To calm himself, he thought of Dean. The sound of his liquid gold voice. The slight curve of his plush lips. The shimmering green and gold of his eyes.

Cas emerged from the shower feeling a lot calmer than he had before getting in. He gathered his things and unlocked the door slowly. Barely peaking his head out, Balthazar was nowhere in sight but just to be safe, he ran to his room.

Cas changed into a fresh pair of underwear and slid into bed, grabbing his phone as he did so. After setting his alarm, he decided to take a quick selfie of him lying on his stomach with his chin resting on his pillow and a slight smile on his lips to send to Dean.

 **Castiel Novak:** Goodnight, Dean.

He sent with the picture attached. Not before long, he dozed off and dreamed of green eyes.


	8. Goodnight, Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Dean's POV directly following the last chapter.
> 
> *WARNING*  
> \- Angst  
> \- Homophobic language  
> \- Mentions of child abuse/domestic violence  
> \- Alcoholic!John  
> \- Implied low self-worth
> 
> BAC = Blood Alcohol Content
> 
> I'M SORRY.

_Why did this have to happen now?_ Dean thought as he drove away from Cas's building. He felt a pang of guilt as he watched his shrinking figure in the rear-view mirror.

Sam texted him. Apparently John was drunk, which wasn't surprising, but this time, he hit Sam. He usually didn't get physical with the boys, at least not until November 2nd...

Dean felt like shit for not being there for his baby brother. Maybe he should've went to Lawrence Tech Community College. That way, he wouldn't have had to leave home, but he just had to.

After John heard rumors around town that Dean was becoming a bit "friendly" with Benny, who was on the drumline with Dean at Lawrence High, he knew he had to get away. John had made it perfectly clear what he thought of "fags;" he insisted that they were the scum of the earth and the biggest sinners of all. If he knew that his eldest was into guys, he'd probably kill him with the right amount of BAC.

Sam heard about these rumors, too. He confronted Dean about it before Dean graduated from high school. Dean never admitted to or denied his sexuality to his little brother, for he figured that it might somehow cause problems for Sam or work its way back to John. Sammy was smarter than that though and Dean knew it.

So when their grandmother died, Dean left. With a heavy heart, he loaded his junk into the Impala and set out for Wichita. John was furious more so in the fact that without Dean around, he would have to shift his priorities less from the bottle and more on Sam. That was the ideal, but John didn't really go through with it. Dean felt like shit for leaving, but he couldn't let the Campbell house go and he certainly couldn't put himself at risk. After all, if John did something to him, who would take care of Sam?

Dean hauled ass to Lawrence, hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel. Lawrence was only two-and-a-half hours or so away, but it was still a bit of a hike, especially when it came to situations like this. In fact this is why he wasn't at band camp earlier that week. John didn't get physical with Sam, but it almost would've come to that if Dean hadn't shown up and stayed for a couple days, and what do you know, not even three full days later, he was headed back there to settle things again.

Dean would get custody of Sam if he could, but his job at Bobby's didn't exactly pay the bills, plus there was never enough time for another job with school and band. As shitty as he feels for doing it, he was living off of the inheritance money he received from his grandmother and what he could scrape up from fixing cars.

When Dean tried to file for custody, it did nothing but anger his father and cause a social worker to call him "inadequate." If only she knew about what goes on behind closed doors; if only she knew John was a raging alcoholic and an abusive, negligent parent. But no, of course she didn't know. John made sure of that.

All Dean wanted to do was live a normal life. A normal life where his father didn't drink and his mother was still alive. One where Sammy didn't have to worry about what to do for his next meal or when and if Dad was drunk. He wanted to stay with Cas and not feel ashamed of who he was and who he loved.

_Loved?_

Dean blinked and shook his head as the thoughts raced through his head. He didn't love Cas, not yet, but he somehow knew that he would in time. He really meant what he said to Cas about feeling this inexplicable bond between them. It was scary as all hell, but he wanted it so bad. He didn't love Benny even though he said he did. He never felt anything as strong as he feels with Cas with Benny. Not even a little. They hadn't even known each other for that long, but Dean knew Cas was special.

But if Cas knew anything about Dean's home life, he'd probably skip town and get as far away from him as possible. How appealing can a guy sound with a drunk, homophobic father be? And that's just the tip of the iceberg. So, he decided the best thing to do was shield Cas from all this shit so maybe he would stick around longer, selfishness be damned.

Finally pulling into the driveway, Dean heard his phone buzz. He reached for it instantly in hopes of it being Cas, but he frowned when he saw the name.

 **Anna Milton:** Why were you at the Roadhouse with that freshman kid?

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. What, was Anna stalking him or something? He knew that she wanted to be his girlfriend, but he has told her plenty of times that he doesn't want to be. Sure, he lets her kiss him solely to maintain appearances, but now that Cas was in the picture, that was going to stop whether she liked it or not. He didn't respond to her text, so he threw his phone in his pocket and stormed into the house in search of Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean yelled from downstairs. "Dad's truck's gone!"

He heard Sam's bedroom door squeak open. As soon as he heard the noise, he bolted up the too steep staircase to find Sam walking towards him wrapped in the blanket their mom had made him when he was a baby.

"Hey, what happened? Are you-" Dean stopped as he grabbed Sam's face to get a better look. He had a black eye and a cut on his eyebrow. John must have hit him with his ring hand. "I'm gonna kill him," he growled.

"Dean, don't," Sam croaked.

Even though Sam was as tall as Dean now, Dean always saw him as his baby brother. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, giving him a firm hug. "How did this happen?"

Sam pulled back and motioned for Dean to follow him back into his room. They both face each other and sat crisscrossed on the bed. "W-We were, uh... Talking about..."

"Spit it out, man," Dean said and gave Sam a comforting pat on his knee.

"We were talking about you."

Dean's stomach dropped. "Me? W-What about me?"

"Dad wanted to know what was going on with your, uh... love life."

 _Shit_. Dean's thoughts went straight to Cas. There's no way John could possibly know about him, but the fear still remained.

"Dad's been... I don't know, worried? Apparently he heard some people talking about you in the grocery store," he dropped his eyes to the empty space between them, "about whether you were still with Benny or something."

Dean's lips pressed into a firm, thin line and his eyes hardened. When he didn't say anything, Sam went on.

"So he asked me to do some recon on you and tell him everything I know so he could 'keep tabs on you,' a-and I said no."

"Why?" Dean said through clenched teeth.

"Because it's none of his business, Dean!" Sam got up and stood in front of his brother. "It's none of my business either! If you want to tell me about someone you're with, that's your own prerogative. I'm NOT going to pry into your life just to appease our poor excuse of a father! I don't understand why your sexuality is even a big deal!" He was getting worked up, but he didn't care. "And that's when he hit me... He said, 'If you're not gonna tell me, I guess I'm gonna have to beat it outta you 'til you learn your lesson.'"

By that point, Sam started crying. Dean got up and wrapped his brother in another bone-crushing hug. "Sammy, you know you could just lie to him, right?"

"You know how I feel about that," Sam pulled away so he could look Dean sternly in the eyes. "I won't lie just to make that sick bastard happy, end of story."

"But-"

"NO!" Sam's yell vibrated through the room.

"Dean!" Their father's voice boomed from downstairs. Sam froze.

"Wait here," Dean said before turning on his heel to go downstairs.

Entering the kitchen, he noticed John standing at the sink, staring out the window holding a beer.

"Sir?" Dean asked.

John turned and walked over to Dean, clasping his big hand too hard over Dean's shoulder. "Son," he said. Dean could smell the whiskey on his breath. "How's band goin'? No hanky-panky, right?"

Dean knew he wasn't just asking about sex. He was asking specifically about whether or not Dean was involved with any guys. "Nope."

John tilted his head as he read Dean's face. "Don't lie to me, boy."

"I-I'm not."

"Better not be," John growled, baring his teeth slightly. After staring his son down, he released Dean's shoulder and made his way to his recliner. Dean knew once he sat in it, he'd be out for the night.

Dean quietly made Sam dinner and brought their plates upstairs. "Sammy, open up."

Sam opened the door and they sat in silence as they ate their spaghetti. As they ate, Dean realized that he couldn't lie to Sam about his love life, not after everything John puts him through. He knew he'd feel like shit if he had to lie to those stupid puppy dog eyes.

It was then as Dean scooped the last bite of pasta into his mouth that he realized he had to stop talking to Cas. He just couldn't lie to Sam or tell Sam about the Cas thing and then expect Sam to lie to their father, and he couldn't watch Sam get another black eye for refusing or withholding info. It killed him inside, but it had to be done.

Besides, Cas didn't deserve this crap anyway. He deserved someone who could show him off to his family and not have to deal with all the drama that followed the Winchester name.

Cas was a freshman who had his whole career, his whole life ahead of him. He didn't need someone as broken and fucked up as Dean Winchester in his life. All Dean would do is curse and tarnish him.

"Thanks for dinner, Dean," Sam whispered, breaking Dean out of his thoughts.

"Any time, bitch."

"Jerk," he replied as Dean took the dirty plates. "You're spending the night, right?"

"Have you seen your face lately?" Dean laughed, trying to make light of the situation.

"Shut up. I'm probably going to go to bed."

"Okay. I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

Dean quietly put the dishes in the dishwasher and made his way up to his old room. He hated sleeping there because it brought back so many bad memories of adolescents, but he braved through it for Sammy. He'd go to hell and back for his little brother, no doubt. He'd even give up the one thing that really makes him happy.

Speak of the devil, Dean's phone buzzed.

 **Castiel Novak:** Goodnight, Dean.

Attached was a selfie. Cas's bright blue eyes staring right through him and a little smile playing on his lips. His heart ached as he stared at the image. He had to let Cas go not just for Sammy's own good, but for Cas's, too.

Dean threw his phone across the room, not giving a damn if it broke, and turned on his side. He held a pillow tight in his arms and pressed his face into it until he cried himself to sleep.


	9. Bottoms Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any typos. Haven't read through it yet. Enjoy!

Cas didn't sleep very well. He stretched his aching body and sat up, immediately checking his phone to see if Dean had texted him.

Nothing.

Cas huffed a frustrated breath. Dean said he would text him. Then he realized how immature he was being. It hadn't even been a full day yet. Dean was probably busy dealing with whatever crisis arose yesterday.

To keep his worry at bay, Cas decided to go for a run. He slipped on his clothes and his running shoes before slipping out the door. He figured he'd run counterclockwise from his previous route. It was still relatively early, so it was still somewhat cool in contrast to the thick, humid August heat.

Upon reaching the south side of campus, Cas made it a point to avoid going down Dean's street. No matter how much he enjoyed the scenery, he wouldn't let his curiosity get the better of him.

But nearing the turn for Cyprus Street, Cas's mind couldn't help but wander. He replayed the events from yesterday. The way the emerald green cushions of the diner booth brought out the green in Dean's eyes. The way Dean's face looked upon his virgin taste of mint chocolate chip ice cream. The worry written across Dean's face as he read the text message that sent him speeding out of the parking lot.

Cas pushed the thought down and quickened his pace. Dean would tell him if he was in trouble, wouldn't he? Maybe not. After all, they hadn't even known each other that long. Dean didn't have to tell him anything he didn't want to.

Then a British voice echoed faintly in the back of Cas's mind. He pushed his legs faster as if he could run away from the memory but to no avail. Balthazar was really creepy last night. He was literally waiting there for Cas. He had to break into the building to do so. Hopefully it was nothing. It's not like Balthazar made a move or anything. Cas had nothing to worry about, at least that's what he told himself to suppress his anxiety.

Cas made it back to his dorm. He'd only been running an hour, but he felt like he'd been running for days. He figured he'd keep himself busy as best he could on his day off before band tomorrow.

After shedding his sweat-drenched clothes, he took a long shower to try and release some of the tension. He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whether it was about Dean or Balthazar remained a mystery. It was probably both.

By that time, it was around 9:45am. He knew his mother would be up, so he decided to give her a call.

"Hello, sweetheart," a tender voice greeted after the second ring.

"Hello, mother," Cas involuntarily smiled. "How are you?"

"Oh, honey, you know how I am. Same as always," she laughed. "Tell me about band, darling. Have you made any friends?"

Cas swallowed the lump in his throat. His mother knew of his sexuality, but he didn't feel like talking about Dean to her. Not yet anyway.

"It's wonderful, mother. I'm only a second trumpet right now, but hopefully that will change in the near future."

"That's great, dear! I am so proud of you, but you left out the friend bit," she chuckled.

Cas went on to tell his mother about Meg, who she desperately wants to meet. He spoke to the photograph of his mother that sat on his desk as he spoke. It made him feel closer to her somehow. He missed her. It had only been a week, but he craved his mother's comforting embrace.

"Alright, Castiel, I better get going. I have some errands to run before my book club this afternoon. I love you, sweetheart. Bye."

"Goodbye, mother. love you, too."

Cas spent the rest of the day going through his music. He hated using flip folders because all they did was get in the way. Plus, they were learning the drill tomorrow and for the remainder of band camp. It'd be easier once he memorized his music. This season's show was a Beatles tribute with a contemporary dance routine.

By 3:00pm, he memorized all the music. He didn't actually play any of it in fear of disturbing fellow dorm mates, but he would have plenty of time to practice it tomorrow out on the field.

He didn't touch his phone since talking with his mother. He didn't even dare to look at it. Dean would text him if and when he was ready, but that didn't make Cas any less pissed off. Dean took his virginity for crying out loud; one would think Dean would've said  _something_ by now.

"Maid service!" Meg's voice chimed from the other side of the door following a light rapping.

Cas smiled. He was thankful for this distraction, and he really liked Meg.

* * *

By 10:00pm, Cas and Meg had binge-watched old episodes of "The Fairly Odd Parents" and eaten leftover Chinese.

Just as the episode where Timmy had a thriving lemonade business thanks to Cosmo's sweaty socks had ended, Meg closed the laptop and turned to look at Cas.

"Still haven't heard from him, have you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"You've been sneaking some dewy-eyed, longing glances at your phone this entire time, hot stuff."

Perhaps Cas wasn't being as subtle as he thought. The one thing he didn't want to do right now was talk about Dean because that would reopen that can of worry all over again, so he tried to shrug it off and change the subject.

"No," Cas cleared his throat, "I haven't. So, are you ready for tomorrow?"

Meg decided not to press any further. "Hell yeah! We're finally getting into the good stuff. I'm excited to see what the dance routine is." She glanced down at her phone to check the time. "It's getting pretty late though, so I think I'm going to turn in."

"Yes, we should get some rest."

Meg threw her arms around Cas and gave him a tight hug. At first, he was shocked by the sentiment and quickly responded and hugged her back. It wasn't anywhere near his mother's touch, but it was comforting nonetheless.

"Don't worry about that dumb drummer boy, Cas. You're a catch," she whispered into his ear before pulling away to look at his face. "And if he doesn't realize that, then it's his loss, okay?"

Cas nodded.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow then. 'Night!" She said as she left the room.

Meg was right. Cas shouldn't be worrying about Dean this much. He would wait for Dean to come to him. With that thought, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

"Up and at 'em, freshies!" An upperclassmen yelled from the hall, jolting Cas awake.

He dressed quickly, grabbed his trumpet, and waited for Meg so they could walk to the band room together. He was really nervous about seeing Dean, but he tried his best to ignore that twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Cas scanned the room as he and Meg entered. He immediately spotted Dean standing behind his drum with a distant look on his face. When a girl laughed obnoxiously near Cas, Dean's face turned in his direction.

They locked eyes for a split second before Dean dropped his eyes to the head of his snare, tightening his jaw as he did so.

Cas's heart fell into his stomach. He was confused, angry, hurt, and worried all at the same time, it stunned him in his tracks.

"Come on, Cas," Meg asserted after witnessing the exchange. She sounded a bit pissed.

He took his seat and ran through some scales to calm himself down and warm-up before Mr. Crowley took his chair. They ran through more scales, played through the fight song, and the first song of the drill before going outside on the field.

Cas noticed a lot of people had flip folders, which made him feel a bit better knowing he'd already memorized "Twist and Shout", the first song of the show.

Making his way to his spot on the 45 yardline, he noticed Dean already standing in his on the 50.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said as he planted his feet on the white-painted turf.

Dean didn't respond, only tightening his grip on his drumsticks. Cas didn't think he could've felt any worse. He had no idea what he did or didn't do, but his concerns were immediately shoved to the back of his mind when Mr. Crowley began to bark orders. He wouldn't let this Dean drama effect his marching.

* * *

Going back in the band room, Cas quickly packed up his things. Normally, he'd stay in there and run through a couple of things, but he needed to get out of there.

"Nice job today, Castiel!" Chuck, his section leader, called.

"Thank you," he replied before heading towards the door.

Before he made it out, he noticed Anna, the redheaded flute section leader, talking to Dean. Anger bubbled up inside of him then. So, Dean wasn't just not talking to anybody, he just wasn't talking to  _him._

* * *

The rest of the week went that way, minus Cas trying to talk to Dean. He didn't even spend time with Meg, and she understood that he needed his space.

Instead, Cas went on more runs and completely immersed himself in his music. It's what he always did when something was bothering him.

He assumed Dean didn't really mean anything he said to him last weekend. It was all some sick joke just to get into a freshman's pants. It nauseated him how used he felt and how he actually believed Dean.

By Friday, he was fuming with built-up anger, which Meg suggested a perfect outlet for.

"Come on, it'll be fun, Cas!" She lightheartedly begged as she stood in his doorway wearing a tight blue dress and strappy heels. "The house is right down the street, and it's Friday night."

Cas stood in silence. He'd never been to a party, so he wasn't entirely sure what to do. Part of him wanted to stay in his room, but the other really wanted to go out and let off some steam.

"Pleeease?" Meg batted her eyelashes.

"Fine, I'll go."

"Really? Yay! Hurry up and get dressed so we can get going."

Cas settled for a plain white t-shirt, his burgundy skinny jeans, and his checkered Vans. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror before meeting Meg out in the hall.

* * *

The walk was short from their dorm to the football house in east campus. The football players always threw a big party a week or two before classes started at the end of August. Anyone and everyone was invited who was on campus for camp: band, cheerleaders, you name it.

Cas could hear the bass from a block away. He was nervous, but the sound of the music hiked his adrenaline. There were people standing outside smoking cigarettes and even more people inside holding red solo cups of God knows what.

He and Meg made their way to what looked like the living room. Shot glasses filled with a yellow-ish liquid lined the shelves of the bookcase. Meg grabbed two and handed one to him.

"Bottoms up!" She said before knocking it back.

Cas looked hesitantly at his before moving his eyes back up to Meg's. In his peripheral vision, he saw him.

Dean was standing against the far wall of the living room with two girls on either him, one of them being Anna. Cas bore daggers into him and felt his blood boil. Then as if he had called his name, Dean looked directly at him. It was then that he took the shot, never breaking eye-contact. The alcohol burned his throat, but it went down smoothly.

Meg followed Cas's eyes and saw Dean, glared at him, and picked up two more shots.

"Fucking asshole," Meg muttered before clinking her shot glass with Cas's. They tossed them back in unison.

Four shots in, Meg pulled Cas down so she could reach his ear. "I'm gonna go outside for a smoke. Don't wait up, hot stuff." She giggled and slapped his ass before leaving the room.

Cas knew Dean was still in the room, but he didn't care. This wasn't about Dean anymore, this was about letting loose. That was the whole point of coming to this thing, right?

Cas was feeling a little more than buzzed when he made his way to the middle of the room. Sweaty bodies were all around him, dancing to the music. Soon enough, Cas was swaying his hips, angling his head up to the ceiling, letting the music take him.

Suddenly, he felt someone wrap their hands around his waist as they ground into his ass.

"Hello, Castiel," Balthazar's voice ghosted over the shell of his ear.

For a split second, Cas was stunned, but then he remembered that Dean was in the room. Part of him hoped that Dean was watching just to get a taste of his own medicine. Plus, Cas felt safe that he was in a room full of people. That somehow made Balthazar less creepy in Cas's alcohol-blurred mind. So, he decided to put on a show.

Cas rolled his hips back against Balthazar, causing the older man's grip to tighten around his waist. He dropped his head back on Balthazar's shoulder, exposing his neck. Balthazar placed wet, open-mouthed kisses to his throat as they swayed in time with the music.

Cas looked over in the direction he last saw Dean. The girls were gone, but Dean still stood against the wall. His lips pressed into a hard line. His gaze felt like a laser, piercing straight through Cas.

Thanks to the confidence boost the alcohol provided him, Cas decided to rub it in a bit more. He closed his eyes and bit his lips as he rolled his hips back on Balthazar again.

Cas's little plan was working perfectly until Balthazar growled in his ear before pulling him firmly by his wrist upstairs, not giving him much choice.

"Let's go someplace a bit more private, shall we?"

 

 


	10. Yeah? Yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*  
> \- Attempted rape/non-con (nothing happens other than kissing and dry-humping)
> 
> I know this chapter is relatively short. The next one is going to be a lot longer!
> 
> I'm sorry for all the angst here lately, but I promise things will get better (at least for a little while)!
> 
> Also, I wanted to thank everyone for reading. This is my first attempt at a long fic, so this is just as new for me as it is for you. Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I also apologize for my inconsistent, sporadic updates. I've been in a groove here lately, so I'm attempting to put out as much as I can while the rhythm is still going!

All Cas wanted to do was make Dean jealous, but he  _definitely_ didn't think this through.

Balthazar had a death grip on his wrist as he maneuvered them through the crowd. As the older man dragged Cas up the staircase, he tripped a little over the steps, nearly bumping into a girl and spilling her drink. It was darker and the music wasn't as intense up there, which helped him clear his head a little.

Cas's heart raced as Balthazar pulled him into a room at the end of the hall, closing and locking the door behind them. Fear prickled its way up his spine and his hands shook despite Balthazar still keeping a bruising hold on him.

"W-What's going-"

"Now I've got you  _right_ ," Balthazar accentuated the word by pushing Cas against the far wall, "where I want you." _  
_

Balthazar trapped both of Cas's wrists above his head. Cas squirmed underneath the man's imprisonment but stilled as Balthazar pressed the entire length of his body against him, capturing his mouth in a sloppy kiss. He tried to move his head away, but Balthazar's other hand held his face firmly in place as one of the blond-haired man's knees wedged between his.

"Don't play coy, Castiel," Balthazar huffed as he rolled his hips into the freshman's. "I know you want it."

Cas cringed as he felt the man's hardness rut against his crotch. Balthazar's ice blue eyes were being swallowed by his pupils, and he had a downright predatory expression on his face.

"Get the hell off of me!" Cas yelled and tried to break free.

"Wrong answer," Balthazar growled as he dropped his hand from Cas's face so he could place his forearm across Cas's throat.

Balthazar proceeded to roll his hips against him. Although every fiber of his being was fighting it, fighting to get away, his body betrayed him.

"See? I know you want it," Balthazar hissed as he felt Cas's semi through his jeans.

"NO!" Cas tried to scream, but the arm across his throat was crushing his windpipe and his arms started to tingle from being suspended by Balthazar's grasp.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door that shred through the thumping of the music.

"Cas?!"

_Dean._

Cas would know that voice anywhere. Whether he was furious with him or not, it didn't matter, not then. He needed help. He tried to scream but was again choked out by Balthazar's arm. That didn't matter though because Dean kicked the door in, splintering the wood of the frame. Dean looked downright scary. His chest puffed out and his shoulders looked broader beneath his green flannel, but the look on his face could've scared the devil himself.

With lips parted and nostrils flared, Dean walked straight up to Balthazar, leaving no room for him to react, and punched him directly in the temple, just as he had done to that homophobic asshole outside of the Roadhouse. Cas immediately started coughing and dropped his hand down to his neck.

"D-Dean," Cas tried to choke out. Dean stomped on Balthazar's ribs. Even through the music, he could hear the distinct crunch of breaking bones. "Dean!" Cas finally managed to yell.

Dean tore his malicious gaze from Balthazar's body to Cas, causing him to shiver. Before he could do or say anything more, Dean grabbed Cas by the elbow and led him downstairs and out the back door. No one seemed to really care or notice them as they passed, which he was grateful for. Dean took him over to the side of the house. He could hear people out front mingling and smoking, but the side was totally vacant aside from them.

Dean released his hold on Cas's arm and started to pace in a small line in front of the freshman before speaking. "What the  _fuck_ was that, Cas?!"

Cas didn't know what he expected, but it surely wasn't this. His temper flared up inside of him as he replied. "Seriously, Dean? Are you kidding me?!"

"Do I look like I'm fucking kidding?" Dean stopped to stand directly in front of Cas, who was leaning against the house.

"No, you don't get to do this. You take my virginity and then don't talk to me for a week?" he said before the anger completely took over. He pushed himself off of the house and directly into Dean's space, pushing his finger firmly against his chest.

"And then, AND THEN you stand there with two girls draped over you after selling me some bullshit story about how we have some 'profound bond' or whatever?"

Dean looked like he'd been shot as the words poured from Cas's mouth.

"'Profound bond,' my fucking ass, Dean! You just wanted to lure in some unsuspecting freshman to fulfill your macho man, senior drum captain, take-what-you-can image!"

In the dim lighting, Dean's eyes glistened and if Cas didn't know any better, he'd say that Dean was on the verge of crying, but he was too damn mad to stop now.

"That's all this was, right? Make some stupid freshman fall all over himself for you just to yank the carpet from underneath of him because you knew you could, right?!"

"Cas... I-"

"That's not even the worst of it!" Cas continued as he cornered Dean up against the side of the house. "And then he tries to make you jealous, and for what? To almost get raped by some British asshole and then get blamed for it by you? Dean, this is all  _your_ fault!"

A single tear rolled down Dean's cheek. Deep down, it broke Cas's heart to see, but he needed to get it out. In the heat of the moment, he didn't realize it, but he was crying, too.

Cas took a deep breath to steady himself, replaying the words in his head and realizing how harsh they must have sounded. He dropped his eyes from Dean's and stared intently at one of the house's siding panels behind Dean's shoulder.

"I've just been going crazy over you, and I can't believe I was stupid enough to let myself believe you felt the same way," Cas admitted.

Without saying a word, Dean reached out to hold Cas's hand in his. He lightly ran his calloused thumb over Cas's knuckles, waiting for Cas to look up at him before he spoke.

"Cas, look, I know... I know I fucked up. It's kind of who I am," Dean said with a self-depriciating smile. "But just hear me out and I'll explain everything, okay? Then you can decide if you still want this. J-just know that I do... want this, I mean... more than I've ever wanted anything, actually."

Cas stared down at Dean's hand covering his, watching the Dean's thumb dip into the space between his knuckles.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me tonight, tomorrow, or ever. I'm just asking you for a chance, Cas. Please..." Dean pleaded.

Cas considered it for a moment. If Dean didn't care about him, why did Dean go searching for him back in the house? Why did Dean just sit there and absorb the blows of his anger? Why did Dean propose this offer? Then it donned on him; maybe Dean really does care about him.

It all changed after Dean went home, so maybe that had something to do with his behavior that past week.

"Okay," Cas whispered. "I'll listen."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


	11. Succulent Ass, Yes. Just Some Freshman, No.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! I know I sound like a broken record, but I'm sorry for my inconsistent updates. It's a week before finals, so all hell is breaking loose (part one). I don't know why, but this chapter was hard to write. Maybe because I wrote practically the whole thing and forgot to save, so I had to write it all over again, which was BEYOND irritating. I haven't read through this yet, so I apologize for typos.
> 
> This chapter is pure fluff and smut. Basically, feelings and hot make-up sex. #DealWithIt. BUT! Not all that glitters is gold; there is PLENTY more conflict to come.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy! :-)

If Castiel Novak had been a rational man, he probably would've stormed off before Dean Winchester and his stupid tear-filled green eyes ever got the chance to speak to him. Don't get him wrong, he was furious with Dean for ignoring him and getting angry after the Balthazar incident, but something deep inside him begged him to hear Dean out. Regardless of everything, Dean still saved him from the blond low brass section leader. He didn't know why, but there was just something about Dean that drew him in. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Sure, Cas was a virgin a week ago and had never dated anyone, well, ever, but whatever he and Dean had - if they even had anything at all - was special. He knew that much.

So, here Cas was, being led by the hand away from the party, heel-and-toeing to Dean's monstrous muscle car. Cas looked at the front of the football house as they passed by. No one was looking at them, but a familiar platinum blonde head caught his attention. Meg must have caught a glimpse of him, too. Unaware of what happened upstairs, she smiled at Cas and blew him a kiss for good luck. He "caught" it before he and Dean rounded the hedges and made their way down the sidewalk to the Impala.

The short drive to 628 Cyprus Street was tense. Dean didn't turn on the radio, and unlike the comfortable silence Dean and Cas had shared before, the air in the cabin was thick, weighted with the thoughts reeling in both of their heads mixed with an unnerving buzz of anxiousness. Dean was going to explain everything, right? So, why was Cas so nervous? Dean glanced over at his wary passenger. Without thinking, he reached across the bench seat and took Cas's hand in his own.

Dean slowly rolled up to the curb, parking in front of his house. He killed the engine, fully intending to go inside, but he just sat there for a minute listening to the ticking of the motor. He'd deny it until the day he died, but Dean was scared. Not like _holy shit, a ghost_  scared, but scared nonetheless. Why did Dean care so much about this nerdy freshman with big, dumb and impossibly blue eyes? He barely knows the dude! Whatever the reason, it terrified him. He hadn't felt anything like this for anyone. Yeah, there was Lisa Braeden in high school, but he didn't love her, not really. He didn't love Cas either. Not yet, anyway...

"Dean?" Cas asked, head tilted and eyes squinted.

"Yeah, uh, let's just... let's go inside."

Dean ushered Cas through the front door and entered the first room to the right, flicking on the lights as he did so. Cas admired the living room; there was a large red couch facing away from him towards a beautiful rustic fireplace with an impressive flat-screen secured above it.

Dean sat on the left side of the couch. The glow of the burgundy-shaded lamps on the endtables on either side of it cast soft shadows across his chiseled features. Cas took a seat on the other side of the couch. They both angled themselves towards each other, another silence falling over them.

"You said you wanted to explain yourself, Dean," Cas said, Dean's eyes meeting his. "So, explain."

"Alright," Dean cleared his throat, "here goes nothin'. Look, I'm sorry, Cas. I know that probably doesn't mean jack shit, but it's not something I say often. I-I'm not really good at this  _feelings_ thing, so bear with me."

Cas shifted in his seat to get more comfortable, waiting for Dean to continue.

"I'm an asshole, okay? I never should've ignored you this past week and I shouldn't have gotten mad about you and that British prick."

"Why did you then?"

Dean dropped his eyes to the empty cushion in between them, unsure where to start.

"Dean," Cas breathed, "did it have something to do with Sam? You changed when you got back from Lawrence."

"Yeah, Cas..." Dean exhaled a shaky breath. "He hit him. My dad, he hit Sammy. That's why I had to go."

"Why?"

"Well," Dean sighed as he allowed his eyes to trace the seams of the cushion, "my dad ain't exactly father-of-the-year. He drinks, and h-he gets... violent."

Cas's heart felt heavy. Had Dean's father beat him before? By the way Dean described Sam last week, it was obviously clear that he and his brother were close. Cas picked-up on that bond more so now after this discovery.

"Anyway, my dad is about the biggest homophobe there is. Hell, I'm sure if you look it up in a dictionary, that bastard's good-for-nothing drunk ass picture will be there." Dean joked and smirked like he always did in attempt lighten shitty situations.

"I had this thing with this guy, Benny, in high school, but we broke it off before the rumors could get 'round to my old man. He heard about it though, I know he did."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. "Apparently Dad heard some people talking about it last week while he was out, wonderin' if Benny and I were still together or some shit. He was pissed and asked Sammy to go sleuthing around to find out anything he could about my love life to keep tabs on me or whatever."

"And Sam said no," Cas assumed.

"Right, he said no and that's when Dad beat the shit out of him and threatened to hit him s'more if he didn't do it."

Cas was appalled. How could someone beat their own child, let alone be so homophobic? It sickened him.

"Couldn't Sam just lie?" Cas asked.

"You don't know the kid, man. He has this thing about lying, especially when he feels like he shouldn't have to."

"Couldn't you just lie then? Tell Sam you're dating some women?"

"It's not that simple, Cas. I-I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie to this kid's beat-to-shit face, ya know? Call me stupid or whatever, but-"

"You're not stupid, Dean," Cas interjected. "You didn't want to hurt your brother, regardless of if he was aware of it or not."

Dean reached across the cushion and took Cas's hands in his own. "How'd you get so smart?"

Cas blushed and Dean smiled. "But, yeah, I-I just couldn't lie to him and I couldn't tell Sam about you and expect him to lie for me either, so I decided it would just be best for everyone if I forgot about you, but dammit, I was wrong, Cas."

Dean's eyes shimmered with sincerity. Even though Cas knew Dean was doing what he felt was right, that didn't mean that it still didn't hurt. Dean rubbed his thumbs over Cas's knuckles and Cas followed the motion with his eyes.

"What are you saying, Dean?"

"I'm saying that I was an idiot. I'm saying that I would rather lie to Sammy and feel like complete shit about it than not and lose you."

Cas had tears in his eyes now. He knew that lying to Sam was a big deal for Dean. "W-Why?"

"Because, dammit, Cas, I don't know what it is about you, but I haven't felt this way about anyone. Not about Lisa, Benny, anybody. You're... different."

"You mean I'm not just some succulent piece of freshmen ass?" Cas chuckled.

"Succulent ass, yes. Just some freshman, no." They both laughed then, and it felt good. It felt right.

"So, what happens now?"

"For starters, I'm not going to stay away from you anymore, that is, until you get sick o' me."

"You'll be the first to know if I do," Cas snickered.

"And I'm going to go  _Weird Science_ on this bitch and tell Sammy about this girl, he'll tell my dad about it, and we'll live happily ever after... if you'll have me."

There was a hint of fear in Dean's eyes. What if Cas rejected him? But we all know that would never happen.

"You know, this past week, I really thought I was just another notch on your bedpost and that you didn't really care about me."

"Cas, I-"

"Dean, let me finish." He paused and gripped Dean's hands tighter. "I know we haven't known each other that long, but the time we spent together last weekend was amazing... the best time of my life, actually."

Dean smiled at that and brought one of Cas's hands up to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss to each knuckle. The butterflies were back and they swirled around in the younger man's stomach.

"So..." Dean murmured.

"So, of course I'll have you."

"Really?!" Dean sat upright in surprise with a big, toothy grin plastered on his face.

"Really," Cas smiled in return.

Dean scooched to the middle cushion, minimizing the space between them. He dropped Cas's hands to grab the freshman's face and crashed them together into a hard kiss.

Cas sighed against Dean's lips and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. After a moment, he broke the kiss to begin a new one. He ran his tongue along Dean's plump bottom lip, coaxing him to allow him access. Dean obliged and opened his mouth, which Cas enthusiastically sieged.

Dean groaned when his and Cas's tongues collided and danced together. Cas responded by pushing Dean back against the couch so he was sitting and straddled his lap. Dean moved his hands from Cas's face, over his shoulders, and down his back to his waist.

Cas ground his hips down onto Dean and felt the older man's arousal through both of their jeans, causing Cas to throw his head back and release a moan. Dean thrust his hips up into Cas and took the opportunity of his exposed neck to place hot, open-mouthed kisses over his sensitive pulse points.

"Upstairs?" Dean panted into Cas's ear, causing him to shudder.

"God, yes."

Cas quickly lifted off of Dean and ran upstairs at lightning speed, leaving a trail of clothes in his wake; his checkered vans kicked to places unknown and his white t-shirt hanging on the banister. Dean chuckled at Cas's ethusiasm and toed his shoes and socks off. He threw off his shirt and took the stairs by twos up to his bedroom, and what he saw when he got there was enough to fill his spank-bank for the next century.

Cas was on the center of his bed on his knees and elbows, illuminated by the dim light on Dean's bedside table. His delicious ass high up in the air with legs spread and heavy cock dangling between them.

"Son of a bitch..." Dean huffed and absent-mindedly freed himself from his jeans and too-tight boxer briefs.

"Deeean," Cas whined. Honestly, he didn't know what got into him. Just a week ago, he was a shy virgin, but Dean awakened some dormant, primal sexual desire deep within him.

"I'm here, baby," Dean said as he approached the beauty that was Cas's ass. He knelt behind the younger man and spread his firm cheeks with his large hands.

"Mmmm, Dean."

"Such a pretty ass," Dean said and delivered a hard slap to Cas's right cheek. Cas's yelp morphed into a long moan that went straight to Dean's dick. He was so hard, it hurt, but he'd be damned if he passed watching Cas writhe underneath him up.

"You like that, baby?" Dean asked and slapped Cas's left cheek, red handprints blemished is perfect skin.

"Ughhh, yes, Dean."

"I do, too, but you know what I think you'd like even better?" Dean quickly scooted back a little and bent down so his face was level with Cas's ass. He licked a broad stripe from Cas's balls to his opening, which fluttered from the sensation.

"Oh,  _God_ , fuck!"

"Mmm, I love how vocal you are, Cas," Dean said and lightly bit his right cheek before licking his opening again.

"Dean, ooh, please," Cas whimpered.

"Please what, baby?"

"Fuck me! Now!"

Dean laughed and circled his tongue around Cas's hole again. He dipped it in briefly before answering, "So bossy."

Without hesitation, Dean sat up and reached over to his nightstand to grab the lube and a condom. He popped the cap off the bottle of lube and thoroughly coated his fingers with it.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Dean asked just like he did their first (and Cas's first) time. He even reached down between Cas's legs where his hard cock hung heavily and trailed a finger from its tip, down the length, and over his balls to his quivering hole.

"Yes, Dean, please..."

Dean circled Cas's entrance before pressing his index finger in slowly. Cas opened for him beautifully; it didn't take long for Dean to get three fingers inside him.

"So good, Cas. So beautiful." Dean continued to work him open and curled his fingers up to massage his prostate as he bent down and kissed and bit his ass.

"Dean!" Cas cried out. "I'm ready! _Please_  fuck me!"

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers - making Cas whine about the loss of contact - and tore the foil packet open with his teeth. He grunted as he rolled it on his hard, neglected cock. He'd been dying for some kind of relief since they were on the couch. Condom on, he grabbed Cas's hip with his right hand, using the other to lube and guide his dick to Cas's slick hole.

He pushed into Cas's tight heat agonizingly slow, moaning, "Ohhh,  _God_ ," until he was fully sheathed.

Cas threw his head back and wailed. Dean's hard, thick cock filled him up so good. It hurt a bit but that pain was quickly replaced with pleasure as Dean began to shallowly thrust into him. Both of Dean's hands held his waist firmly in place and would probably leave small, finger-shaped bruises.

"Ahhh, fuck,  _harder_ ," Cas begged and was answered by a grunt from Dean and a more punishing pace. The head of Dean's cock dragged across his prostate on every other thrust.

"You like that, baby? _Fuck_ , you're so tight."

The only sound that filled the room was their skin slapping together and the erotic noises that spilled from their mouths. Cas's knees and elbows ached from holding him up for so long, but he could care less. All that mattered was Dean and the pleasure he was feeling.

"Touch yourself, baby. Ah, I,  _haaah_ , I'm so close."

Cas obeyed immediately and grabbed his cock, setting a brutal rhythm as he chased his orgasm, which caused him to constrict around Dean's dick.

"Yeah, baby.  _Shit_ , Cas. Come on, come for me."

"Dean!" Cas yelled as his orgasm wracked through him, painting the deep green sheets of Dean's bed white.

"Oh, Cas!" Dean came after three more pumps.

Their breaths were ragged as they came down from the euphoria of their orgasms. Dean slid out and padded to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and grab a rag to clean Cas's hand and his bed. Cas remained on his knees and elbows, shaking and ubable to move. Only after everything was wiped clean did he melt down into the soft bed.

Dean slid in next to Cas and covered them both with the comforter. They curled up to one another, spooning. Dean draped his arm across the smaller man, which Cas gladly clung onto, and nuzzled into his sexed-out raven hair at the base of his head.

Whatever shit they had to face could wait. Right now, they were both content with just being together after the bullshit of the past week. There in each other's warmth was enough, and they both had a feeling that it always would be.

"'Night, Cas," Dean whispered and kissed his head. Cas mumbled in response, too tired to speak. They allowed the bliss of sleep wash over them, hearts beating as one.


	12. Lead the Way, Watson!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter shadows Sam after the incident with John. I ship him and Sarah SO hard.
> 
> Also, yes, I know... I suck. For those of you who have stuck with me despite of my sporadic updates, thank you *gives you complimentary pie*
> 
> The next chapter will go back to shadowing those smitten blue and green-eyed bastards, don't you worry.
> 
> Happy New Year!

Sam felt a lot better after Dean's visit. He always felt better when his big brother was around. Sure, he was a couple inches taller than Dean now, but Dean will always be his big brother, regardless of height.

To Sam's relief, John went out on a bender for a few days after Dean left. He did that sometimes; he would leave for days on end doing God knows what, God knows where, but Sam and Dean knew it was somewhere with cheap booze.

Sam's senior year was quickly approaching, and he couldn't be more thrilled because it was one step closer to Stanford, which meant one step closer away from John. Yeah, that also meant that he'd be further away from Dean, but Dean is almost out of college and he couldn't be more proud of him. Besides, it's not like Sam would be gone forever; he'd come back to visit Dean whenever he could.

What made all of this college talk easier for Sam was knowing that Sarah was going to California with him. They've been together since their freshman year of high school, and things couldn't be better.

They met during Lawrence High's freshmen orientation. Everyone was packed into the gym for a "welcome to high school" PowerPoint, and Sam and Sarah found themselves sitting next to each other. When a slide with one of Manet's paintings appeared on the projector for a brief mention of Lawrence High's art program, the speaker said "Monet," which Sam and Sarah both corrected under their breath. They've been inseparable since.

Sarah wants to study art history at Stanford and Sam is prelaw, of course. He always wanted to be a lawyer. He remembers playing with Dean growing up. Sam would always insist on playing "Law & Order" by putting his and Dean's toys - and sometimes Dean - on trial for some fictitious crime.

Now with a mature head on his shoulders, Sam knew that he wanted to help people, to serve justice where justice often turned its sometimes blind eyes.

Law school was by no means cheap. Luckily, Sam applied earlier this summer to Stanford after receiving his SAT scores and already got his acceptance letter. It seems Stanford is just as eager to have Sam join their prelaw program as Sam is.

Even if Sam hadn't received a full-ride to Stanford - just as long as he keeps his grades up his senior year, which won't be a problem - Grandma Campbell had a college fund set aside for him. Sam doesn't know about it, but Dean has control over the account. He plans on handing over the reins to it once Sam graduates.

Sarah's father is a Stanford alumni, so her acceptance is pretty much guaranteed even though she hasn't sent her application in yet. Even though it's a year away, Sam and Sarah have already started talking about moving into an apartment close to Stanford's campus. They plan on getting a summer job in Kansas to save up and a part-time job once they move out to California to afford the rent.

Just wait until Dean tells him about the money Grandma Campbell set aside for him. Dean is so relieved that Sam won't ever have to worry about finances. The kid has had enough on his plate, what with losing both parents; one to a horrific electrical fire and the other to a raging alcohol problem. So, this full-ride to Stanford and Grandma Campbell's inheritance are both huge blessings that give Dean real peace of mind.

Anyway, with John gone and nothing to do, Sam made his way to Sarah's house. She only lives a few blocks away, so he decided to walk. Sarah had a car and offered to pick him up, but Sam enjoyed walking. Dean always said his love for nature was something he got from their mom. Though Sam never really knew her, he likes to think he does with all the pictures and stories Dean had showed and told him. He loves his mom, regardless of how much - or how little - time he got to spend with her.

Sam breathed in the fresh Kansas air as he strolled to Sarah's. The sun warmed his face and the birds chirped happily. The black eye John had inflicted on him a week prior had mostly subsided. Now, it was only slightly discolored and yellow. Despite that, Sam was feeling pretty good. He was excited for his future, he had Dean, and he had Sarah, and that's all that mattered.

The Blakes lived on the corner of Jade and Main in a restored, beige colonial home. Sarah's parents loved Sam ever since they started dating three years ago. They knew of John's ways and always offered their home to Sam as a safe haven. Though Sam and Sarah haven't talked to them about finding a place together in California, they're sure they will approve.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Just as Sam released the brass knocker, Sarah flung the door open wearing a brilliant megawatt smile, her dark, wavy hair framing her lightly tanned face. She was also wearing the light blue sundress Sam has bought her for her birthday back in June. She looked absolutely stunning, and Sam felt like the luckiest guy in the world, which was completely written all over his face.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hey, beautiful," Sam reciprocated her smile and reached out to take her hand in his.

"Where to, handsome?" She said as she threaded their fingers together.

"You'll see," he answered and pulled her through the doorway outside. He bent down and she stood on her tip-toes so their lips could meet, caressing her cheek with his free hand as they did so.

They walked down Main Street, which was littered with small, locally-owned shops, including where Sam and Sarah had their first date: Sundae Sweets.

Even though they go there almost every Saturday, Sarah's eyes always light up when they do. They ordered their usual "triple chocolate truffle," which was just a mountain of homemade chocolate ice cream with chunks of German chocolate cake. Needless to say, they were insatiable choco-holics.

They sat in their usual seat by the front window with their treat sitting between them. Like always, they each took a spoonful, clanked them together with a "cheers," and fed them to each other.

As they ate, Sarah spoke up. "So," she said between spoonfuls. Sam quirked an eyebrow at her as his mouth closed around his own spoon. "How's Dean?"

Sam swallowed his icecream before speaking. "He's good. It's his last marching band season at WU, so I'm sure he's a little sad about that, but yeah, he seemed fine when I saw him."

Although Sam claimed Dean to be fine, something in his eyes seemed to question that, which Sarah picked up on immediately. Dean and Sarah weren't particularly close, but they admired each other.

"He's fine? Really? Come on, babe, I know that you don't even believe that," Sarah said and ended it with a triple chocolate truffle bite.

Sam looked down at the table. He felt comfortable talking with Sarah about anything, so she knew about John's homophobia and Dean's presumed bisexuality, but she didn't know the full extent of the fight he and John had about Dean last week. When Sarah saw Sam's black eye, she attempted to kiss it better, treated him with more tenderness than usual, and didn't ask any questions.

That was another reason why Sam loved Sarah. She never pushed him to talk about John because she knew it was a sensitive subject. She would wait until Sam was ready. It was somewhat of an unspoken rule they had: Sam would talk to Sarah about the things that happened with John on his own time and Sarah would sit back, listen, and shower him with the love he deserved afterwards. Despite the fact that Sarah absolutely loathed Sam's father, she bit her tongue because he already witnessed enough anger and hate in his life.

"Uh, he just seemed a little off after..." Sam trailed off as he gestured towards his previously black eye a la John Winchester.

"Oh," Sarah nodded in understanding. "Sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to pry. I hope Dean is okay," she said softly and reached her hand across the table to meet Sam's. "I'm glad you're okay."

Sam smiled and continued. He felt ready to talk about last weekend. He told Sarah about John's ludicrous demands to go sticking his nose in Dean's business where it doesn't belong. He told Sarah about John hitting him. He told Sarah about when he told Dean about it, too, and how Dean seemed really upset afterwards.

"I'm sure he was upset about seeing what your father did to you, Sam. Hell, you know I am, too." She squeezed his hand tighter. "You know how guilty he felt about moving to Wichita. What you saw was probably more guilt for feeling like he wasn't there to protect you."

Sam nodded and looked at their joined hands.

"Which is totally irrational, by the way," Sarah continued. "He _had to_  go to Wichita, but you know how readily he puts the blame on himself for things that aren't his fault." She abandoned her spoon and used her other hand to lift Sam's chin so he would look at her. "And he loves you, Sam. You know that. And I love you, too."

Sarah's green-gray eyes softened as she spoke the sentiment. Sam felt the warmth of love bloom inside him as he looked at her.

"God, I love you," he smiled.

"I know," she chuckled. A few moments passed before she spoke again. "You should try and talk to him about it the next time you see him. You know he gets emotionally constipated."

Sam threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."

"Good," she said as she reached forward and wiped some chocolate from the corner of Sam's mouth. "Now, let's go back to my place and watch some 'Sherlock'."

"Lead the way, Watson!"


End file.
